Scars, Faded
by Elysynn
Summary: Mysterious circumstances surrounding the deaths of two naval officers bring the team to Long Island where they learn the situation is far more dire than it first appears. A sequel of sorts to "Conversations". Case fic with Tony angst. ON HIATUS
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **I do not own any part of NCIS and am making no money with this work. Merely taking them out to play for a bit…

**Spoilers:** There may be minor references to the following episodes: _Last Man Standing, Agent Afloat, Twilight, SWAK, Judgment Day, Bury Your Dead, Requiem, Bait, Heartland. _Should additional spoilers work their way in, they will be posted in pertaining chapters.

**A/N:** While this story builds on the foundations of my story _Conversations_, I believe it can be read as a standalone. There will be references in this story to history established within _Conversations._ I am however trying to provide enough context to references to not make _Conversations_ required reading. In an effort to minimize disruption of the flow of the story, I am planning on only having Author's notes at the beginning and end of the story. Ramblings about progress will be posted in my profile page, should anyone find they are interested. Thanks in advance to those who review; I'll do my best to personally reply. As always, constructive criticism is appreciated.

Scars, Faded

_Prelude_

Lieutenant JG Mason Hastings clenched his frostbitten fingers around the small plastic oar, willing himself to not succumb to death just yet. He had to make it to shore, get the message out about the traitorous act that had put him at the mercy of the North Atlantic. His shipmates were dead. He was the only messenger.

He shivered. As long as he shivered he'd be okay. He knew he would be in big trouble when the shivering stopped, hypothermia closing its ever-tightening coils. The sky was gray, light snow obscuring the horizon; he knew the sun was rapidly sinking. The wind was bitter, blowing spray off the swells. They were small yet, but he knew it wouldn't last long with the winds blowing from the east. A Nor'easter was on the way.

His teeth chattered violently. He knew the odds. His chances of survival were slim. The young lieutenant rested his numb cheek against the stiff rubber of the raft. The contact barely registered in his mind. He'd never felt so miserable, so alone. He forced himself to sit up, vigorously pumped his arms to get some circulation back to his hands so he could hold the oar. He could not fail, could not succumb to despair. He had a duty his country.

One pull at a time he drew himself towards shore. The easterly wind pushed him. Above him a few foolhardy seagulls cried. Shore was near. They had been just over twelve nautical miles out. He'd been pushing towards shore for a couple hours now, the wind he estimated was upwards of 25 knots. He ran a few calculations through his head, they gave him confidence, renewed his energy. He was close.

_Chapter 1_

The bullpen was unusually quiet. Several teams were out on assignment. Gibbs was up in MTAC; McGee was with Abby putting together a new server array for her lab. Tony came up for air under the avalanche of paperwork. He made a show of stretching and yawning, making an effort to be as obnoxious as possible. He glanced at Ziva, disappointed in the complete lack of reaction from the Mossad liaison.

He stood up and grabbed his coat. It was 11:30, and it was his week to pick up lunch. He snatched a peanut off his desk and pitched it at Ziva. His previous disappointment was surpassed when she intercepted it with casual indifference.

"Really, Tony?" she said with an air of irritation, "The peanut thing, again?"

"I haven't pegged you with a peanut since Halloween."

"Only because I threatened to kill you with McGee's staple-remover," she narrowed her eyes at him, "I think you forgot about that." She jumped to her feet and purposefully strode to McGee's desk.

Tony's eyes went wide, "You wouldn't!"

She plucked the office supply from McGee's desk, and brandished it threateningly at DiNozzo. "I would. But I'll grant you reprieve if you bring back Pad Thai chicken."

"Done!" DiNozzo agreed. He smiled on his way to the elevator. Slowly, but surely Ziva David was discovering her inner child.

Thirty minutes later he was delivering his teammates' favorite entrees from the local Thai takeout. He left Gibbs' on the boss' desk, their fearless leader apparently still tied up in MTAC. Down in the lab he set Abby's food and a Caf-Pow refill on the lab table. DiNozzo figured she was due a Caf-Pow seeing as Gibbs had been in MTAC all morning. He was starting to get curious what was going down.

Tony made himself comfortable on a lab chair, listening to the lightning-fast exchange of techno-babble between the Goth and the Geek. He quietly chewed on his noodles until he was snapped out of his thoughts by a loud _SMACK_.

"What was that for?" McGee griped.

"You're cabling wrong!"

McGee looked at Abby incredulously. He looked like he was about to defend himself, then appeared to decide that this was a battle not worth fighting. With a perturbed expression he grabbed his Thai off the lab table, muttered a thanks to Tony and walked out of the lab.

Tony shrank into his seat when Abby turned her gaze on him. Yep, she was definitely due for another Caf-Pow. He slid it her direction as a pre-emptive peace offering. She started muttering about switches, and LAN and WAN and five or six cats he was lost.

Abby reached for the overly-sugared, overly-caffeinated beverage and took a long draw. She plunked the cup down and walked over to the computer that was busily running a ballistics match. "I don't have any results for you yet," she with mild exasperation.

"Wasn't here for results," he replied. Tony stood up and plunked the white cardboard box next to her keyboard, "Lunch."

Abby smiled at Tony as she caught scent of her favorite dish. "I didn't even ask!"

Tony stood up and winked at her, "I know." He smiled enigmatically and walked out of her lab. He was polishing off the last of his meal when he made it back to his desk. McGee was busy typing at his computer. Ziva was on the phone. He turned to grab a soda from the vending machines when the door to MTAC opened.

All three agents looked up to the mezzanine to see who emerged. Gibbs looked down to see his team waiting expectantly. "Go home and pack up. Our flight leaves in 90 minutes."

"Uh, Boss?" McGee began, "Where are we going? Need to know what to pack."

Gibbs glanced at DiNozzo and hesitated for a fraction of a second before answering, "Pack for cold weather."

Their team leader said nothing more as he strode to the Director's office. The three agents began gathering their gear, when they heard Gibbs call, "DiNozzo, tell Abby to forward all her results to Jenkins' team. They're taking over our investigation."

DiNozzo picked up the phone and hit the speed-dial for Abby's extension. He held the handset away from his ear as industrial music blared in the background. "Abby, we're heading out of town. Gibbs just came out of MTAC; he wants you to forward all your results to Jenkins."

Tony finally managed to break off Abby's tirade about Jenkins investigative inadequacies. He looked at his watch then glanced up to the Director's office. Something was definitely brewing, and his gut was telling him it was not good.

McGee and Ziva were heading for the elevator. They paused, waiting for DiNozzo to join them. Tony waved them on. He lived much closer to the Yard than they did; he had plenty of time to pack if the bag he had stowed in his locker wouldn't meet the need. He wanted to talk to the Boss before he headed out. He hadn't missed the look Gibbs had given him. And that made him nervous.

Tony picked up the phone again. He punched the speed dial for the tech center. "Hey, Lucas," he greeted. "Could you bring the laptops up? Looks like we're heading out of town for a while… yeah, standard McGee configuration will do…Our flight leaves in 90 minutes…Excellent, McGee will be thrilled…Yeah, thanks, you too."

DiNozzo placed the handset back on the cradle. He worked through a mental checklist for any other items they may need. He glanced up to the Director's office before heading back down to the basement. He grabbed a couple of crime-scene kits and a camera bag. He checked to make sure everything was stocked, tucked the camera bag under one arm and grabbed a kit in each hand.

"Hey, Duck?" he called as he poked his head into Autopsy. "You hear what's going on?"

The M.E. looked up from the body he was currently examining, "Not unless it pertains to this poor chap," he gestured to the moderately decomposed figure before him. "I haven't heard nary a peep from anyone since we got back from retrieving this fellow."

DiNozzo smiled, it had been a long shot but was worth a try. "Thanks. We're on our way out of town shortly, Gibbs hasn't said where yet. Has the feeling of something big and mysterious if you know what I mean."

"Oh?" Dr. Mallard was intrigued.

"Gibbs has been in MTAC all morning. Now we're heading out, not hard to put those pieces together," he smirked. "I'm gonna stop by and see Abs quick before we head out. Take care, Duck!"

After visiting Abby's lab again he dropped off the kits and camera at his desk. He was debating on running home to grab a few more things when he heard the door to the Director's office open. He leaned against the corner of his desk and waited.

"DiNozzo!" Gibbs barked. "I thought I told you to get packed?"

"I'm already packed, Boss. I keep a bag here. Unless we're heading to Hawaii, then I'll have to change a few items up."

Gibbs noted the crime-scene kits, the camera bag. The elevator dinged and he turned to watch Lucas from tech lug four laptop bags over to DiNozzo's desk. Even after eight years, his senior field agent would find ways to surprise him.

"Here you are, Tony," the young computer tech offered the bags to DiNozzo, "four McGee specials." Lucas placed the bags on the ground when DiNozzo nodded to the floor. "We just got these machines in the other day, got 'em all imaged up to the boss' specs."

Gibbs and DiNozzo shared a smirk at Lucas' reference to McGee. "Thanks, Lucas. I'll pass that on to McGee," Tony smiled.

As the tech walked away, the smile dropped from DiNozzo's face. "So, where are we going, Boss?"

Gibbs held eye contact with DiNozzo before replying, "We're going to Long Island, DiNozzo. Montauk."

Tony swallowed, "I think I need to go home and get my parka, Boss."


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

DiNozzo took the stairs to his apartment two at a time. He was trying to sort out his thoughts as he grabbed his parka and a few other miscellaneous winter items. It was cold in DC this time of year, but not like Montauk. It had been a long time since he had been back to Long Island. Where he expected to feel some level of trepidation, he actually felt close to nothing at all. There had been a point in time, not that long ago, if he was to be honest with himself that he would have done anything within his power to avoid making that trip. He thought that had something to do with having finally shared his less-than-stellar childhood with someone. Since then, Long Island no longer seemed to hold a nearly phobic grip on him.

What he did feel irrationally nervous about was running into his father. While Montauk was on the far north end of the island, and nearly thirty miles from where he grew up, it still felt uncomfortably close. He knew then chances of him running into his father were less than his chances of getting struck by lightning. The little boy in his mind though screamed, _"It's still a chance!"_

Tony looked at himself in the bathroom mirror. He frowned at the vulnerable look in his eyes. He set his jaw and told himself to suck it up. He had a job to do. Gibbs didn't tell him the circumstances for their sudden need to travel but DiNozzo had worked with him long enough to know that it was important.

He tossed a rarely-used pair of winter boots into the bag he grabbed and gave his apartment a last look-over. On his way out, he stopped by Mrs. McGovern's apartment with a spare set of keys and asked her to water his plants. He had made arrangements with her years ago. She watched his apartment while he was away and he had her over for dinner and a movie. She was one of the few people he knew who shared his passion for cinema, and after working for MGM for thirty years she was a treasure-trove of cinema trivia. As he was walking down the hall to the stairs he smiled as she called, "Have fun storming the castle!"

~*~*~*~

The short helo flight to Pax River was quiet, each agent taking a cue from Gibbs to keep chatter to a minimum. Gibbs had explained after they all regrouped in the bullpen they were being choppered down to Pax River to catch a transport to Montauk Airport. The fact they were flying military out of Pax versus commercial out of Dulles in itself spoke volumes. It spoke of time sensitivity. DiNozzo's stomach churned in equal parts excitement and dread about what all this could mean.

Several ground crew ran to the chopper to deliver their gear to the waiting C-12. DiNozzo had been wondering what they'd be flying into the small, single runway airstrip on the far northern tip of Long Island. On their jog to the double-prop, Gibbs gave a quick order to his agents, "Do not ask about this assignment on the plane."

Once they were boarded they were joined by four Marines. DiNozzo shared a meaningful glance with Ziva and McGee. Gibbs introduced the team. DiNozzo filed away the Marines' names, Sgt. Vaughn, Cpl. Martin, Cpl. Smith and Sgt. Vuong. The ground crew shut the cabin door, the pilot announced their flight would be approximately 70 minutes. As they taxied to the runway, Gibbs began talking to the Marines about mundane things: where they'd been stationed, where they'd trained. He got them talking and sharing stories. DiNozzo knew what the Boss was doing: gathering information.

DiNozzo made eye contact with McGee, "Lucas wanted me to let you know that he did your imagery thing on the new laptops that arrived last week."

"Image, Tony," McGee corrected.

"Whatever, McGeek," Tony dismissed. "He seemed pretty proud of it. I didn't know we had so many McGoo worshipers."

McGee chuckled, "He should be proud. There are a lot of complicated protocols and the installs have to be done just right…" He trailed off as he watched Tony's eyes glaze over. "They're not worshipers Tony."

"Right… that's why they bow and call you Boss every time you walk by the tech center."

Tim rolled his eyes, "They don't bow."

"Uh, huh. You're a geek with a gun. They play that fantasy online, you live it, Probie."

McGee started to respond, and then thought better of it. He recognized Tony was baiting him, and he just wasn't up to playing. Gibbs and the Marines were still talking quietly, sharing stories about their boot camp drill sergeants from the sounds of it. Over the noise of the props, it was hard to hear clearly.

Ziva had already started playing her iPod. She had chosen to isolate herself rather than risk asking any forbidden questions. Tony sat back in his seat, the small eight seat plane not offering much in the way of legroom. He quit teasing McGee without a fight because truth-be-told, his heart wasn't in it. He had reservations about this assignment, and now that they were actually on their way that trepidation he thought he should be feeling was finally starting to surface. He leaned his head against the window and watched the ocean disappear behind the clouds.

DiNozzo glanced at his watch for the fifteenth time this flight. A half hour ago, Gibbs and the Marines had stopped chatting. They were supposed to be landing in about ten minutes. The flight had been getting bumpy, and Ziva was holding on to the arms of her seat in a death grip.

The clipped, tinny voice of the pilot announced, "We're gonna be in the air a bit longer than expected. Snow's got the runway covered and we have to wait for them to clear it."

Gibbs expression went as stormy as the sea they were now able to view. He had little patience for delays and poor planning. And even less when it came to problems beyond his control. McGee looked a little alarmed. One of the Marines noticed and smiled, "Don't worry, they always fuel with a forty-five minute reserve."

When they were finally cleared to land the small plane was tossed around by the crosswind. The storm was strengthening. Ziva looked pale, and McGee looked green. Tony smiled, "You know, this reminds me of that scene in _The Day After Tomorrow_ where they're on that plane with all the turbulence…OW!"

Ziva smacked Tony on the chest, "Tony, if you do not shut up right now, when we land I am going to get _very_ creative with my knife."

"At least you said '_when'_ we land," DiNozzo smirked.

While the landing was by no means elegant, the pilot did skillfully maneuver the plane onto the runway. The snow was heavy. The runway was already becoming coated again where it had been cleared. They were taxied down to the hangar where Tony could see two State Trooper SUVs waiting. Ziva uncurled her fingers from her arm rests, glared around murderously at everyone daring them to say something about her fear of flying.

They stepped off the plane into the bitter wind. The four Marines turned to Gibbs. "I want you on six hour rotations. Two posted each shift. On orders from Sec Nav, no one gets in but the people on this team. I will notify you when anyone else is cleared. If anything feels wrong, I want you to call me immediately, is that understood?"

"Sir, yes, Sir!" came the chorus.

Gibbs glared, "Don't call me Sir. I work for a living."

"Yes, Gunny!" the Marines replied.

Gibbs smirked, "Go with Officer Waites. He'll take you where you need to go."

When the Marines were packed into the SUV, Gibbs turned to his team, "I need you in your cold weather gear. We're going out to the scene in 5 minutes."

Tony was fairly bursting with curiosity as he pulled his boots on in the small airport office. He hated being out of the loop. He stuffed his gloves in his pockets along with his hat. He'd put them on at the scene. He strode out of the office, leaving Ziva and McGee to finish wrestling with their gear.

Gibbs stood with his back to the wind, collar of his coat turned up as he spoke with the Trooper. He turned and watched DiNozzo approach. "Where are McGee and David?" Gibbs asked impatiently.

"I don't think McGee's had to wear a stocking cap since MIT, Boss. I think he forgot how to use one. Where are we headed?"

"Officer Colvill," the Trooper spoke up holding out his hand, "we're heading to the beach."

"Boss, you didn't tell me to bring suntan lotion," Tony replied, shaking the Trooper's hand.

"DiNozzo," Gibbs warned.

"Shutting up, Boss."

Ziva and McGee joined them a moment later. "C'mon, let's move," Gibbs barked, "We don't have much daylight left."

On the way to the scene, Gibbs briefed them with some details of what they were going to see. "We've got two dead naval officers that washed up on shore today on Montauk Point. They appear to have washed up some time after 0600 this morning. One of the locals is an observer with the National Weather Service and his observation station is down on the beach. He makes daily checks at 0600 and 1800. The officers weren't there this morning. His son went down at approximately 1000 to watch the progress of the storm and discovered the bodies.

"Last night about two miles south of the observation station another local found another officer. He was barely alive. He's in intensive care at Southampton Hospital, he hasn't regained consciousness."

Tony was thinking about what his Boss was not saying. He wasn't saying why their team had been flown here. He wasn't saying what had killed these men. He wasn't saying there was a ship in trouble at sea. And what his Boss wasn't saying was keeping his mouth shut. He looked at the Trooper who was pretending not to listen. Officer Colvill obviously had some very similar thoughts on his mind.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

When they pulled into Montauk Point State Park, Tony found he was impressed with the LEO coverage of the scene. There were four State Troopers on scene in addition to the two that had met them at the airport. Once you got out of the Boroughs of New York City and away from the closest suburbs, crime fell relatively quickly. To have a congregation of this many law enforcement personnel this far north on the Island was tantamount to a convention.

"We need to get the scene worked quickly," Gibbs said as he pointed towards the churning ocean. "We've got a tide coming in, and the seas are higher than they were this morning. DiNozzo, I want you to sketch, McGee, photos. David, I want you with me."

Ziva looked miserable in the biting wind as she walked away with Gibbs. The pair met up with a couple Troopers who led them away to another SUV.

"Something seem fishy to you, Tony?" McGee asked quietly as he prepped the camera.

"You mean aside from standing on the beach as a Nor'easter approaches within spitting distance of an old fishing village? Absolutely nothing fishy, Probie," Tony quipped.

McGee glanced at Tony sideways. _Translation: shut your yap and get to work._ "Right."

Both men climbed over the snow covered dune to where the dead men lay. They shared a look when they observed the bullet holes in each of the officers' parkas and life vests. Tony ruled out 'ship in trouble' from his list of possible problems. It looked like much of the blood had been washed away, so he concluded that these men had been shot before washing ashore. He made a circuit around the bodies noting their positions. He paused and gazed out to sea, curiosity piqued.

DiNozzo took off his glove so he could use the sketch pencil. Every few minutes he stopped to put his hand in his pocket to warm it. There was nothing holding the wind back. He put the finishing touches on his sketch as McGee took a final few snaps. Gibbs sauntered over with Ziva, a Trooper and a slender young woman. Tony eyed the young woman appreciatively. He put on a charming smile. Then he saw Gibbs' expression. _Not the time._

"If you're done here, I'm going to let Dr. Dubois look at the bodies so they can be released from the scene. "

McGee and Tony both nodded and went to stand by Ziva. The young doctor went to work. She rolled the men over. She inspected the bullet wounds and removed one dog tag from each man handing them over to Gibbs. The second tag would remain with the bodies. McGee snapped photos through the process, trying to capture some good pictures for Ducky to view.

"My best estimate for TOD is 24 to 48 hours ago. Sorry I can't give you a tighter timeline, but with these men landing in the ocean, it would have dropped their core temperatures much faster. The bodies are in rigor, but the full extent is difficult to tell due to some freezing of the bodies. Given the nature of the wounds, my opinion is that Lt. Stein here died from a bullet wound to his heart." She gestured over to the older officer, "Captain Richter here appears to have lived at least a little while after he was shot. His COD was most likely exsanguination but I can't rule out drowning or hypothermia."

The young doctor stood and crossed her arms. "I am releasing the bodies. I'd _really _like to know what you think is going on here."

Tony looked over to Gibbs, curious how he would respond. He had expected some ruffled feathers from the State Troopers, but not from the coroner. He almost smiled when Gibbs replied, "We've been on the scene less than an hour. I think you have a better idea what's happening here than we do. If there appears to be a threat to the local population we will notify local law enforcement immediately."

Dr. Dubois narrowed her eyes. "I'd believe that if these gentlemen were being sent via regular ground transport to Rhode Island. This isn't our first dead sailor, Agent Gibbs. I've worked with NCIS out of Rhode Island, and their M.E. has no knowledge of these men being delivered to his morgue."

"Rhode Island is swamped with cases, Dr. Dubois," Gibbs countered hotly. "All their MCRTs are in the field working cases. Seven bodies are on the way to _Dr. Campbell's_ morgue. Now do you have any more insinuations to make or can we get these men on their way?"

DiNozzo almost felt sorry for the poor doctor as she stood with her mouth agape. She stared at Gibbs' back as he stalked off to the SUV. When she started ordering the EMTs that had arrived to transport the bodies, he decided he didn't need to feel sorry for her. He felt sorry for the EMTs.

Tony took one last look around the area in the fading light. He knew there was little chance of finding anything useful on the beach, but both protocol and his conscience demanded it. He handed McGee the sketchbook and asked him to bring it back with him to the SUV. Looking at Ziva shivering in the wind he took pity on her and told her to go warm up in the truck.

~*~*~*~

The drive down to Southampton had been long. The worsening weather had made what was usually an hour-long trip into a two hour nightmare. They had finally gotten settled in their rooms just after 1900. Gibbs still had not filled the team in on any details he was privy to. Tony was hoping they would get some information once the team met up for dinner.

When Tony sat down at the table with Gibbs, Ziva and McGee he knew by the look on Gibbs' face there would be no information forthcoming. Gibbs read the consternation on his senior field agent's face. He looked around the room and said quietly, "Too many ears. We need to eat quickly."

Halfway through the meal, McGee was looking at Tony with an indecisive expression. He kept looking like he was about to say something and then would pick at his food. After the fourth aborted attempt, Tony rolled his eyes and demanded, "What is it, Probie? Do I have lettuce in my teeth?"

Tim's mouth worked a moment. Gibbs stared at the computer expert. McGee started to look a little uncomfortable but finally spit it out, "Well, Tony, I remember you telling us a long time ago that you, uh, grew up on Long Island. You never really talked about it much. I was just wondering where you grew up, what it was like? I mean, this is your home, right?"

Tony sat back in his chair, his eyes turning stormy. Gibbs watched him carefully, unsure how his agent was going to react. McGee looked like he wanted to crawl under a rock from DiNozzo's scrutiny. Very quietly, Tony responded. "I was born at Southampton Hospital. My father's estate is just outside of Sag Harbor. I lived here until I was fourteen. I did _not_ grow up here, and this is _not_ my home."

Tony stabbed at the piece of chicken on his plate for emphasis. He held McGee's gaze while he brought the fork to his mouth, going through the motions of eating. He suddenly did not have much of an appetite. McGee looked away replying softly, "Got it, don't want to talk about it."

Ziva looked like she was going to come to Tim's defense, but a sharp glance from Gibbs told her to let it go. She turned her eyes to DiNozzo, watched as he tried to close the mask over his emotions. She had seen him in turmoil like this before: the entire trip back from California after Jenny had died.

Gibbs cleared his throat, breaking the tense silence. "After we're done eating, we're heading over to the hospital to check on the patient."

Tony pushed his plate away from him while standing up. "I'm done, Boss," he forced out. "I'll meet you in the Lobby in ten."

Ziva noted the concern in Gibbs expression as he watched DiNozzo retreat. "Gibbs, what was that about?"

Their team leader turned and regarded Ziva and said gently, "Not my story to tell."

"I'm sor..." McGee started. He cut off the apology at the warning glare from Gibbs. "I didn't mean to upset him, I didn't think…" he let his excuse trail off expecting Gibbs to respond with a '_that's right, you didn't think_'. When no response was forthcoming, he looked at Gibbs curiously.

The former Marine looked at his agents. He didn't need them walking on eggshells around Tony. There was too much at stake for his team to be anything less than one-hundred percent. He wasn't going to betray the confidence his senior field agent had entrusted him with, but he needed to make sure that Ziva and McGee didn't unintentionally provoke DiNozzo.

Looking at Ziva and McGee in turn he began, "I know you are both aware that DiNozzo did not have the best of childhoods. He's made enough cracks about it over the years. Unless he brings it up, just let his past lie."

Each agent nodded under Gibbs' stern gaze. They shared a look when Gibbs turned his attention back to his food. "Eat up," he ordered without looking up, "Next meal could be a while."

Ten minutes later the team was piling into a rental sedan that had been dropped off for their use. Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot and finally began to reveal some of the mystery without preamble.

"The Navy has lost a major asset. The three officers that washed up on shore were part of a five-man crew of an experimental sub. Sec-Nav wants to keep this as quiet as possible; the political ramifications of the U.S. losing this asset are serious. Two men are still missing. Last night when Lt. Hastings washed ashore he was aboard a rigid inflatable raft. He was suffering from severe hypothermia and frostbite. Until this morning, the Navy was concerned the sub had been lost at sea. This was the boat's sea trials. This morning, when the two officers washed up dead with gunshot wounds: that changed their entire outlook. Half the Newport fleet is pinging the hell out of the Atlantic from here to the Grand Banks. From what Admiral Davis told me, it may be a futile effort. This sub was the first in a new class of stealth submarines."

~*~*~*~

Tony stood outside the entrance to the hospital. It had changed in the twenty some odd years since he had last exited those doors. He didn't know who he was trying to fool, thinking he could come back here. After that graveyard conversation with Gibbs so many months ago he thought he had finally laid some demons to rest. He thought some of those scars had begun to fade. Yet here he was, standing outside a hospital unable to walk through the doors.

He had stalled at the car allowing Ziva and McGee to go in ahead of him. He didn't need their questions right now. Gibbs had followed them. The wind howled at his back and he hunched deeper into his parka. He seemed stuck in a juxtaposition of age and season - child to adult, winter to summer. His departure from this hospital had marked the most significant landmark of his childhood. When he left this hospital he was free: free to pursue his own life, his own dreams, to make his own way. Most importantly it marked his freedom from living under his father's hate.

He had never been able to reconcile why his father had hated him so. That great unanswered question was what kept him from going in those doors. To enter that hospital was to face that demon head on. He didn't know if he was strong enough to do battle that night.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs inquired his tone neutral.

Tony jumped. He hadn't heard the former Marine approach. In a rough voice the younger agent spoke, "This is the hospital I recovered in that summer after he beat me, when I filed for emancipation. Boss, I…." DiNozzo trailed off at a loss for more to say.

"DiNozzo, look at me," Gibbs commanded gently. When his agent complied he continued, "That hospital may represent a lot of things for you. But I need you here. I need your skills, your instincts. I know this is a difficult thing for you to face, especially with no warning. I hate that I have to ask it of you."

Gibbs watched as Tony worked through his request. He had felt like he had stabbed DiNozzo in the gut earlier today when he said they were going to Long Island. Now he felt like he was twisting the knife. He watched as DiNozzo rallied.

"Give me just another minute Boss; I'll be right behind you. What room?"

Gibbs held a smile in check as he replied while walking back towards the hospital, "ICU 4-C, fourth floor, take a left off the elevator."


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Stepping off the elevator, he wrinkled his nose at the scent of sterilizing chemicals. DiNozzo recognized that a lot had changed since his stay for which he was more grateful than he cared to admit. It made it a whole lot easier to pretend it was just some anonymous hospital. The whole layout of ICU had been reconfigured. A central station was surrounded by four glass pods, each containing four beds separated by glass dividers. Each pod had its own smaller nurse's station. The central station was occupied by an unhappy looking woman in her early fifties. She took one look at Tony's 'NCIS' cap and pointed to his left.

He rounded the corner to find Gibbs standing outside the entrance to Lieutenant Hastings' room. He was talking quietly to a red-haired woman that appeared in her early 40s. She didn't look happy with what Gibbs was telling her. In a quick glance, DiNozzo took in the size of the diamond on her left finger, the expensively tailored clothing, designer shoes, salon styled hair. Her appearance said _money_ but her presence said _power._ This was a woman who was used to things going her way, expected things to go her way. He suspected she was family, but unless the Lieutenant was making money on the side, or she had bought herself that ring he didn't believe she was his wife.

As he started walking toward the pair, she frowned and nodded. She looked down to pull gloves out of her coat pockets and started putting them on as she walked towards the elevators. She looked up when her sleeve brushed Tony's as they passed each other.

"Sorry, Ma'am," Tony apologized, offering a charming smile.

She started to dismiss the apology when she paused to look at Tony more closely. "Do I…?" she began to ask before shaking her head and continuing on her way to the elevator bank. DiNozzo turned to watch her retreat, a little puzzled by the encounter.

"Who was that, Boss?" DiNozzo inquired when he reached Gibbs.

"Elizabeth Hastings, the Lieutenant's sister."

"She didn't look too happy when she left."

"I just told her that her brother's life might still be in danger. She had been here earlier today until just before the first guard shift arrived. She left to get a hotel room and eat. She had only been back here about five minutes before I got up here," he nodded back towards the two Marines posted at the Lieutenant's door, "You can get the details from them."

DiNozzo raised an eyebrow at Cpl. Martin. He stood a little straighter and cleared his throat, "She was very…angry."

Gibbs barked out a short laugh at the blatant understatement, "Their drill sergeant could probably have learned a thing or two from her," he turned and faced the Marines, serious again, "You handled the situation well. Any other visitors - call me immediately."

~*~*~*~

McGee disconnected his call with Abby. She and Ducky had given him an update on the two dead officers that had been flown back down to NCIS at the Yard. Abby was running ballistics on the bullets recovered from Captain Richter and Lieutenant Stein. The only thing she could tell him so far was they were standard military-issue 9mm rounds. Ducky had been able to confirm Dr. Dubois' assessment of COD on both men.

Ziva finished her calls about the same time. She had been reaching out to her Mossad contacts to see if they had heard any chatter. All they could confirm was suspicion of there being a problem in the North Atlantic. The active sonar was making a lot of noise and the silence from the United States was only fuelling speculation that they lost something they didn't want anyone else to find.

They were alone in the hospital cafeteria, sitting at a table along the back wall. They both turned as movement from the cafeteria entrance caught their eyes. Gibbs glanced their way before heading to the coffee pots, Tony just a few steps behind.

"How's the Lieutenant?" McGee asked as Gibbs and Tony sat down.

"He's responding to stimuli according to the nurse, he's been close to regaining consciousness a couple times. She said it may take time. He's fighting an infection and may yet lose two fingers to the frostbite," DiNozzo reported.

"Ziva, I want you to stay here overnight. Lt. Hastings is our best lead on what happened. As soon as he's conscious, he needs to be questioned," Gibbs ordered.

Ziva looked like she was about to protest being stuck with a babysitting assignment. The expression on Gibbs' face changed her mind. She didn't understand the approach to this investigation. They had been on the case for approaching eight hours and had nothing. Now she was being left behind while the rest of the team left to do who knew what. She didn't understand why they weren't talking to these officers' CO. The whole process up to this point seemed so inefficient.

"Officer David!" Gibbs barked, startling her out of her thoughts. "Are you listening?"

"Um, sorry, Gibbs, I was ah, thinking about the questions I would ask Lt. Hastings should he awake," she covered hastily. The looks on her teammate's faces told her no one bought it but the matter was dropped.

"I was saying, we are going to be working backgrounds on all of the officers. If we find anything pertinent we will call you with an update so you can work it into your questioning," Gibbs repeated with impatience. "We will be back at 0700, call us if anything happens. The nurses have arranged for a cot, I suggest you use it while you can. They know to wake you the second they see Lt. Hastings regain consciousness."

~*~*~*~

At 2300 Ziva decided to grab another cup of coffee. She had been talked with Sgt Vaughn and Cpl Smith for awhile. They had relieved the other Marines a couple hours before but it wasn't long before the conversation waned. The nurse said she'd page Ziva if Lt. Hastings woke while she was away.

As she rounded the corner into the cafeteria she spotted Elizabeth Hastings sitting at a table conversing on the phone. Ziva had learned her name and relationship just before Gibbs had sent her and McGee to make their phone calls earlier. Elizabeth was facing away from Ziva and talking rather forcefully. Ziva smiled, the woman made this far too easy.

"No, Marc. I won't be home tonight. I told you I was getting a hotel room… Dana will be flying in tomorrow morning. She had to make arrangements for the baby… No…You don't need to come down tonight. I stopped back to check on him one more time before I went to bed, see him with my own eyes…I don't know… The guards at his door may let me see him…"

Elizabeth paused for a long time, resting her head on her palm before sighing. "I told you earlier, they won't tell me. Something about national security…" She got angry, "Marc, damn it, he's an officer in the US Navy, who knows what he's involved with? I don't understand why you're taking this so personally!"

She fell silent again for a few more moments, "Marc, I'm tired. I am going to get off the phone and see if I can go talk to Mason… No, I'm not angry just frustrated…I'll call you in the morning when I get up…I love you too, see you tomorrow," she hung up.

Ziva had started walking towards the coffee machine as she heard the conversation wrapping up attempting to make it appear she had not been listening in. She paid for the coffee and turned to head back to the elevators. Elizabeth was still sitting at the table deep in thought. The Israeli considered stopping by the table and offering some words of comfort. But she had never been good at that sort of thing. She made her way back up to the ICU, fully expecting to be confronted by Elizabeth in just a few short minutes. She was surprised when the woman never showed.

~*~*~*~

"Admiral Davis shared some details about the sub with me, and based on what he's said it would make an extremely valuable commodity to a number of organizations," Gibbs started explaining as they were setting up the laptops back at the hotel room.

Gibbs continued, "Stealth submarines aren't new technology. There have been a variety o f advances made over the years in deadening internal noise, cavitation and the sound of the boat moving through the water. There have been advances made in the coatings applied to submarines to impede sound deflection and minimize the sub's acoustic signature; much like the B-2 does in scattering radar.

"Lt Knoll developed a material during his research at Boston University that dolphins could not detect with their echolocation. When he developed it, he designed it to allow researchers to study dolphins in the wild without eliciting their natural curiosity. It's this material that has been used to skin this sub.

"The submarine is small, fast and extremely maneuverable. Compared to its _Seahawk_ class bigger brothers, its weapons platform is miniscule; however it is capable of launching up to two Tomahawk missiles in addition to torpedoes. Its primary function is reconnaissance, but can also be engaged in fleet escort or stealth attack missions.

"It's the combination of the stealth technology of the boat along with the weapons platform that has everyone so worried. If it were to get into the wrong hands…" Gibbs trailed off shaking his head. He didn't need to spell out the implications.

"The sub's last known position was about 12 nautical miles to the east of Montauk Point. Lt Knoll radioed that there was a problem with the drive system and that they were surfacing to inspect. That was the communication with the sub. Shortly after that, the GPS location was lost and the radio transmitter ceased transmission. Initially they suspected the boat had been lost to the worsening conditions.

"We know something else happened. Until we pick up on some chatter or the Navy by some miracle is able to locate that sub, our only leads are with these men," Gibbs gestured to the assorted computers and notes strewn about the room.

Hours later, DiNozzo and McGee were each camped on a bed in the hotel room. Gibbs was sitting at the table reading through a file on one of the laptops. The men were silent as they read through the files of each of the five men that had been assigned to the submarine. It was after 0100, McGee yawned.

"Boss, you need a coffee?" he offered as he stood up. At Gibbs' raised eyebrow he said, "Right, stupid question. Tony? Three sugars and a hazelnut?"

DiNozzo kept reading the computer, then a couple seconds later he held up his finger indicating he wanted McGee to wait. After about another minute he scratched down a few notes then looked up at McGee, "No, no coffee, hot tea if they have it."

Tim nodded as he headed out the door towards the hotel lobby. Tony turned towards Gibbs, "I found something in common between Lt Knoll and Lt Dawson. Both men have no family to speak of. Knoll has never been married, he was an only child and both his parents died four years ago in a car accident. Dawson was also an only child. His father left his mother when he was eight, according to his records Dawson hasn't had contact with him since the day he left. His mother died a year ago of breast cancer. He was married, but divorced just after their three year old daughter died of leukemia. Neither of these men have anything they'd be leaving behind. I'm betting they were working together on this. When McGee gets back I'm going to have him start pulling financial records on these two."

"It's a good place to start," Gibbs acknowledged. McGee knocked on the door, Tony rose to open it. After beverages were distributed, DiNozzo told McGee what he needed and the computer man started working his magic.

At 0500 DiNozzo crowed as he read through the last of Dawson's financial records. McGee snorted awake and Gibbs just looked at him balefully. "What is it, DiNozzo," Gibbs demanded.

"Over the last three years, transfers totaling $50 million dollars have been transferred to two bank accounts held by Dawson: one in Switzerland and one in the Bahamas. I think he thought he was being sneaky, but the holding company he has the accounts under has its business address located at the house in the Bahamas his uncle owned. This is the same uncle that bequeathed his entire fortune to Dawson. From the looks of it, he never paid taxes on that money…"

"Wait," Tim interrupted, "He stole a top secret submarine to get away with _tax evasion_?! That makes no sense!"

"I agree, Probie. That's why I want to look at when and how Dawson's generous benefactor kicked the bucket."

"Good work, DiNozzo," Gibbs said appreciatively in a rare display of praise. "McGee, work on pulling those records. DiNozzo, grab a short nap. We're meeting up with Ziva in a couple hours. I'm going to grab an hour sleep myself."

"Sure thing, Boss," McGee stifled a yawn. "Anything else you want me to dig into?"

"Yeah, read through Knoll's finances. See if anything stands out."

DiNozzo looked like he was going to argue with Gibbs about going to sleep. As long as he was focused on the case, he didn't have to deal with anything else. But he had to admit the lack of sleep was getting to him. He had only slept a couple hours the night before. He pushed the papers and the computer over to one side of the bed and stretched his long frame out and was surprisingly asleep within minutes. Gibbs had already given up his place at the table, McGee busily making use of both laptops.

~*~*~*~

At 0645 the three agents were showered and in clean clothes heading towards the only Starbucks in town. Gibbs had muttered something about the hotel coffee being weaker than a newborn fawn and uttered an oath to never drink the stuff again. The sky was still cloudy but the snow had stopped. The roads were already in drivable condition, as far as Nor'easters went, this one barely was worthy of the name.

Gibbs was in a foul mood by the time they got to the hospital. The barista made the mistake of not anticipating Gibbs arrival and having the dark roast brewed before he got there. There were few things in the world that the former Marine was irrational about, and one of the worst was his coffee. She looked about ready to cry when DiNozzo stepped in and redirected the growling bear to the end of the counter and let the young woman do her work.

So, in addition to waiting for his coffee they were now late for meeting up with Ziva. Gibbs stepped into the elevator, followed by McGee and Tony. A couple other people stepped on and promptly pressed the '2' and '3' buttons. DiNozzo chanced a glance at McGee, both of them feeling the impatience burning off their Boss.

DiNozzo stepped off the elevator and rounded the corner to head to the Lieutenant's room. He saw Ziva standing in front of the door talking to Elizabeth and another man. The man turned and faced Elizabeth and Tony stopped dead in his tracks.

"DiNozzo, what the hell?" hissed Gibbs as he nearly ran into his agent and spilled his coffee. Tony didn't register the question as his own drink slipped out of his fingers. He turned and strode back towards the elevators.

McGee watched the color drain from Tony's face. Gibbs must have seen the same thing as he grabbed DiNozzo's elbow and led him into the stairwell. "Sit down," Gibbs ordered softly, guiding him down to sit on the top stair, "Head between your knees."

McGee hovered as the senior field agent complied. "Tony, what the hell is going on?" Gibbs demanded.

Tony took a few deep breaths then looked up to Gibbs, "That man with Elizabeth…is my father."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** I am breaking from my 'no author's notes' resolution for this chapter to apologize for the long delay in posting. More details are available on my profile page if you care to read them. Thanks to all who have reviewed, each one means a lot and serves as encouragement to keep going as quickly as I can.

_Chapter 5_

"Damn."

McGee barely heard Gibbs quiet curse. Tony had dropped his head between his knees again, hands clasped behind his neck.

"Boss, should I go…" McGee ventured. He wasn't even sure what to offer.

"McGee," Gibbs said evenly keeping his gaze on Tony, "go get Ziva. Meet us down in the cafeteria. Tell Elizabeth and Mr. DiNozzo to wait for us in the waiting room, that we will update them shortly."

"Right, Boss."

After McGee left, Tony looked up again. Gibbs couldn't pinpoint the emotion on Tony's face. He doubted DiNozzo could tell him how he was feeling right now. He gave his agent time. Contrary to popular opinion, he could actually be a patient man when the situation required it. Being an impatient bastard produced results when time was critical. Few individuals were treated to the rarely seen, patient side of Gibbs. He placed a hand on DiNozzo's trembling shoulder, made eye contact with the man and waited.

Gibbs didn't have long to wait. "Boss, I have lived every day of my life confident that I would _never_ see that man again. What the _hell_ is he doing here anyway?" DiNozzo clenched his fists. He was angry. He was embarrassed. It unnerved him that more than twenty years had passed and that man still had the power to elicit such visceral fear in him.

"Ziva may be able to answer that question once we get down to the cafeteria." There was more he wanted to say. He wanted to tell Tony that he wouldn't make him face his father unless he was ready. But Gibbs knew Tony well enough to understand that if he tried to coddle his senior field agent, DiNozzo would march right up to his father and lay him out. And right now, Gibbs didn't need to be fighting an assault charge.

The stairwell was quiet for another minute while the men sat with their thoughts. Gibbs noticed Tony's color improving. He had expected a wise-crack of some sort, but then he reasoned every wall of defense Tony had ever built had just come crumbling down in a spectacular fashion. He'd give his agent another minute. Because that was about as long as he thought his own self-control would hold out before _he_ marched into that waiting room and turned then elder DiNozzo into paste.

DiNozzo beat the unspoken timeline by fifteen seconds. He stood up slowly. Gibbs could see the resolution in the younger man's eyes. He didn't know how deep it went, but for now he'd take what he could get.

~*~*~*~

McGee sat down across from Ziva at the table. Despite her moderately rumpled clothes, she looked refreshed. Tim was fairly certain she had gotten a good stretch of sleep. McGee quietly brought her up to date on the leads they had found overnight. He just gave her the highlights, not wanting to go into details in this public place. It wasn't so much paranoia as prudence that kept him succinct. A wrong phrase taken out of context could become the sensational news of the night. The last thing he wanted was to explain to Gibbs how their investigation was splashed across the networks.

As McGee wrapped up, Ziva leaned to the right to look over his shoulder. Gibbs and Tony were entering the cafeteria. Gibbs was glowering and DiNozzo looked pissed. Ziva thought that maybe Tony had made an inappropriate comment and Gibbs had been chewing him out. But Gibbs was walking beside Tony, not striding ahead like he usually did when he needed to enforce his point. She didn't have enough time to ask Tim what had happened before the two agents approached the table.

Gibbs looked at Ziva as he sat down. Without preamble he growled, "Sit rep?"

"As of 0630 this morning, the Lieutenant's doctor stated he is still close to regaining consciousness. The infection is under control and they are cautiously optimistic the he will keep his fingers. His nurse woke me once at 2 am when it appeared he was about to wake up. If his condition does not deteriorate over the next few hours they will be upgrading him from critical to serious condition.

"I came down to the cafeteria to eat after I talked with the doctor. When I returned to Lt. Hastings room, Elizabeth and her husband were waiting. The husband was demanding to know details of the investigation."

"He's probably concerned how this could affect the profitability of his company," DiNozzo interjected caustically.

Ziva looked at Tony in confusion. She took in his simmering demeanor, his folded arms. He appeared about ready to say something else, but was silenced by the glare Gibbs gave him.

Gibbs wiped his hand over his face. "We have to handle this situation very carefully from this point forward. Elizabeth Hastings' husband is Tony's father…

"What!?" Ziva exclaimed, "Tony, you did not think this was important to share?"

"I didn't know, Zee-vah," Tony snapped back. "I haven't spoken to the man in 23 years, how the hell was I supposed to know who he was married to!"

Tony had overturned his chair as he stood; their raised voices turning heads in their direction.

"Hey!" Gibbs barked.

Ziva and Tony both looked to their boss, responding instinctively to the command. Tony picked up his chair and dropped heavily into the seat. Ziva leaned back into her own chair curiosity coloring her expression.

"DiNozzo, if you can't deal with this professionally, you are off the case," Gibbs warned. He hated having to say it. He flinched inwardly at the hurt that flashed in Tony's eyes. There was too much at stake with this investigation.

"Because Tony technically has family ties in this investigation, protocol states that he should be removed from the case. We don't have time to lose bringing another investigator up to speed. There is too much to be done. DiNozzo, you will refrain participating in any part of the investigation pertaining to Lt Hastings from this point forward. We have to avoid anything that could compromise the integrity of the investigation."

DiNozzo almost argued the point. Those people were not family to him. But he knew a bunch of lawyers would never see it that way. And inwardly he was grateful. It gave him an out.

"McGee, I need you to follow the financial trail. DiNozzo…"

"Follow up on Dawson's uncle, got it, Boss."

~*~*~*~

The waiting room was quiet as Gibbs and Ziva entered. Elizabeth was talking on the courtesy phone, her husband standing at the window. Elizabeth looked up when she saw the agents enter, murmured something into the phone and disconnected.

She stood up and walked over to Gibbs. "When will I be allowed in to see my brother?"

Gibbs almost smiled. No nonsense, right to the point. "I can't say right now, Elizabeth. We're hoping it will be soon. Once we've spoken with Lt Hastings, we'll be able to make a better determination. I know it's not what you want to hear, but his safety is our most pressing concern."

"You, I assume are Agent Gibbs?" Marc stepped to Elizabeth's side.

Gibbs turned and looked at the man who was DiNozzo's father. His own words echoed in his mind about maintaining professionalism. There was not much resemblance between father and son, save for the eyes.

"I am," Gibbs replied tightly.

"What kind of trouble is Mason in? Elizabeth keeps telling me you won't give her any information out of concerns for national security…"

"That's correct," Gibbs interrupted.

The elder DiNozzo's eyes narrowed. He wasn't used to being interrupted.

"How can letting his family visit with him compromise national security," Marc scoffed.

"As I explained to Elizabeth yesterday, and as I'm sure she explained to you, it is about precedent. We do not have the resources nor the time to spend doing background checks on every person that presents themselves as a visitor. Lt Hastings may have information vital in keeping this country from harm. Possession of that information puts Lt Hastings at risk."

"Is he in any sort of legal trouble?"

Gibbs tilted his head as he regarded the man before him. "Are you implying that he should be, Mr. DiNozzo?"

Marc paused, unsure how this agent knew his name. He knew that Elizabeth had only introduced him to Officer David as 'my husband'. There had not been time for further introductions before she had been drawn away. He suspected that given the circumstances, the agents had run a background check on Elizabeth. He replied slowly, "No, Agent Gibbs, I am merely trying to ascertain if we need to be seeking legal counsel for Mason."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow and replied abruptly, "Not necessary. If any counsel is need the Navy will provide it." He turned his attention away from the elder DiNozzo, "Elizabeth, we will be keeping one of our agents here at all times to ask Lt Hastings the necessary questions as soon as he is able to answer them. Once we have that information and we are satisfied there is no risk to the Lieutenant, your family will be free to visit."

Marc did not miss the change in tone when Gibbs addressed his wife. It rankled that he had been effectively dismissed.

"The agents posted here will be me, Agent McGee or Officer David. If there is any change we will notify you."

"Thank you, Agent Gibbs," Elizabeth sighed. "Agent McGee, is he the one that I ran into yesterday or the agent that talked to Officer David this morning?"

"McGee is the agent that you saw this morning. Our other agent is handling a separate aspect of the investigation. Unless you have any additional questions, Officer David and I need to speak with the charge nurse."

"Only one, Agent Gibbs: is there any way you could make an exception for Mason's wife? She's going to be arriving later this morning. She hasn't seen Mason in almost three months."

Gibbs expression softened. He hated keeping families apart, especially in circumstances like these. "I will see if we can work something out."

He reached into his coat and pulled out one of his cards and handed it to Elizabeth. "Call this number if you have any questions."

Elizabeth nodded as Gibbs withdrew his hand. The former marine walked through the door, Ziva following closely behind. After the agents departed, Marc turned to Elizabeth and demanded, "What the hell was that about? He acted like _I _had done something wrong; the bastard doesn't even know me!"

"I don't know what to say, Marc. You didn't exactly endear yourself by questioning their methodology."

"No, he was pissed at me before I ever opened my mouth. Did you see how he looked at me?" Marc paced across the waiting room. The encounter disturbed him; he didn't think there was anything in his background that would have elicited such rancor.

Elizabeth sat down and picked up the phone, "I think Agent Gibbs has a lot on his mind and you're reading too much into it. I'm calling my mother."

Marc drifted back to the window and stood in silence for several minutes. He reached into his pocket, his fingers curling around the bronze medallion he kept there. "I'll be back," he stated as he walked out of the room.

"Marc, let it lie," Elizabeth appealed, but he was already gone.

Marc caught up with Gibbs at the elevator. The agent turned and regarded him with an unreadable expression.

"Agent Gibbs, I think we somehow got off on the wrong foot. Did I offend you in some way?"

The elevator dinged and opened. Gibbs stepped back into it and punched the ground floor button while fixing Marc DiNozzo with a patented stare. Making no effort to hide the contempt in his voice, he replied, "Yeah, you could say that."


	6. Chapter 6

_A/N: Holy cats... where did the time go? Apologies for the long delay between posts! More info on my profile page. Thanks again to all who have reviewed!_

_Chapter 6_

DiNozzo tossed the keys to McGee and climbed in the passenger seat. That action alone spoke volumes to Tony's state of mind. He rarely gave up the opportunity to drive, and when he did it was usually after he'd been threatened or blackmailed into giving up the keys. McGee climbed into the driver's seat and looked over at Tony. His partner was resting his head in his hand, elbow propped on the door.

McGee cleared his throat, said tentatively, "You ah, wanna talk about it?"

The silence hung in the car. Tony continued to stare ahead. Tim considered for a moment that Tony hadn't heard him, though he didn't really believe that. He put the key in the ignition. As the engine turned he almost didn't here Tony's rough response, "Not now. Maybe someday Probie, but not now."

The short drive back to the hotel room was silent. Tim didn't really know what he expected Tony to say. He had expected him to say _something_. Silent Tony was unnerving. He supposed he expected something caustic, reminiscent of those hours just after Kate had died when Tim had dared ask how she had looked. Or something angry, like when Tony had thought McGee was accusing him of neglecting his duty when Director Shepard died. Every emotionally charged moment he had seen of Tony, the man was animated, forceful, confrontational.

McGee pulled the car into an open spot in front of the hotel. He barely got the car in park before Tony was out of the sedan. By the time he had the car turned off, unbuckled his seatbelt and climbed out of the driver's seat, Tony was halfway to the entrance. "C'mon, McGlacier, this case isn't going to solve itself!"

Tim stared at Tony's back and shook his head. He didn't know if he'd ever understand how Tony could just switch off. He slammed the door shut and strode after DiNozzo. He caught up with the senior agent at the hotel room door just as Tony was putting his phone back into his pocket.

"Director Vance is having the MTAC transcripts sent to us from yesterday morning. Gibbs interviewed Admiral Davis yesterday. We can go through the material and see if anything he said takes on new meaning with the information we've learned," Tony explained as he tossed his backpack on the bed.

McGee was already waking up the two sleeping computers on the table. He re-established his connection to his PC back at the D.C. office and was pleased to see Knoll's financial records waiting for him. DiNozzo wasn't the only one who could play the "work smarter not harder" game.

Knoll's financials weren't nearly as interesting as Dawson's had been. He had about $20,000 in student loans, an IRA that hadn't been contributed to in nearly three years, roughly $6,000 in the bank. He surprisingly had no credit card debt. He owned his car: really owned his car, no outstanding lien against the vehicle. He rented an apartment about four miles from the Newport base. There were no indications of large inheritances, and nothing that suggested hidden money in offshore accounts. So either this man was really good about hiding his money, or he had nothing to hide. He read through the last seven years of tax returns and found nothing untoward.

McGee glanced over to the bed where DiNozzo had set up camp. He was stretched out across the bed, his head propped up by his left hand. Every few seconds he'd tap a key on the machine, presumably to scroll down the page. To the unpracticed eye, it looked like DiNozzo was hardly glancing at the material he was reading. He looked bored out of his skull - and probably was – but his mind was making connections behind that dull expression.

"Finding anything interesting, Tony?"

Tony rolled over on to his back and stared at the ceiling. "Dawson's rich uncle was on the eccentric side. Elliot Dawson made a lot of his money during the dot-com boom in the '90s, had a side business in imports, mostly avant-garde artsy stuff from around the world. The most interesting thing though is the ATF opened a file on him six years ago on suspicion of weapons smuggling. They were working jointly with the FBI and the CIA. They were never able to get anything solid on him, and the investigation died three years ago when he died. What about Knoll, find anything on him?"

"Not a thing. Either he's clean or he's really, really good. There's nothing in his tax records that would raise an audit flag with the IRS. He owns nothing outside his pay grade; by all appearances he's fiscally responsible. His contribution from the GI bill covered all but $20,000 of his tuition costs. Given his scholastic record he could have covered the rest on scholarship. A note in his graduation file stated that he passed on all scholarship opportunities because 'other students needed the money more than he did.'"

"Wow, a giver. How touching."

McGee rolled his eyes. "What about the circumstances of Elliot's death?"

"I hadn't gotten that far." DiNozzo stood and stretched. He glanced at his watch and rubbed his eyes, barely 0900. He cracked his neck and walked over to the window. "Something's bothering me, McGee."

Tim stopped typing, unsure where Tony was going with that statement. He could think of a number of things that might elicit that comment. "About?" he prompted when no explanation was forthcoming.

"Why didn't the Coast Guard see Lt. Hastings in his raft? I could understand missing Stein and Richter. They weren't wearing floatation devices, and didn't have emergency beacons. Based on the transcripts from MTAC, the Coast Guard circled the last known position several times, following their standard search protocol. They had stated that visibility was down to about two miles because of snow. Despite the dark they claim they should have been able to spot the Lieutenant, because his emergency beacon had been flashing. That was how Lt. Hastings was discovered on shore – the flashing light caught that local's attention. They estimated that with the wind and the Lieutenant paddling the raft, he should have made it to shore in about two hours. Something's off with the timeline."

DiNozzo rubbed his eyes again. He was frustrated he couldn't pinpoint what was nagging him about the timeline. The single hour of sleep in the last twenty-seven and the emotional toll of just being _here_ was interfering with his ability to process. Despite his best efforts, he couldn't put this morning's event out of his mind and how it had affected him. The embarrassment and shame were almost too much to bear. And here he was dwelling on it again. "Damnit!" he cursed.

McGee jumped at the sudden outburst. Before he could speak, a glowering Tony had already exited the room and made a best effort at slamming the door. He stood up to follow Tony when his cell rang. Gibbs name flashed on the caller ID. He brought the phone to his ear has he opened the door to the hallway.

"McGee," he answered. DiNozzo was already out of the corridor. He stepped back into the room, "Yeah, sure Boss. We'll see you in a few minutes."

Tim stood at the door for a moment, debating whether to search DiNozzo out or to wait for him to return to the room. He decided that being proactive at this juncture was prudent. Grabbing his room key, he went in search of Tony.

He didn't have far to go. He found DiNozzo talking on his cell in the entryway of the hotel. McGee pulled the door open just as DiNozzo pulled the phone away from his ear and shouted, "No, I will not hold! Wait…NO!"

Tony turned and glared at Tim. "She put me on hold," he complained indignantly.

"Who put you on hold?"

"Probably some unpaid intern doing community service that doesn't understand what 'ongoing investigation' means," he sniped.

"Tony, you can't have been on the phone more than two minutes," McGee tried to reason. DiNozzo's answering glare was enough to tell him that reason was not what Tony wanted right now. He was in full _results now_ mode.

"It was a simple question. It's the State Trooper Dispatch desk. All she had to do was look at her computer. I want to know what time _exactly_ Lt. Hastings was discovered. She just needed to check the 911 logs."

A tinny voice drifted from his cell. He brought it back up to his ear. "What do you mean you can't tell me? You're not allowed...? You have _got_ to be kidding me. I am a NCIS Special Agent, would you like my identification number?" Tony listened for a minute, his lips drawing into a thin line.

"Wait a second," he took a breath. In an even tone he said, "I understand you've been told that you are to release no information regarding the bodies found on the beach. Whether you know it or not that order didn't come from your superior officer, it came down from the _Secretary _of the_ Navy_. I work for the _Naval_ Criminal Investigative Service. Are we starting to make a connection here? No? Write this number down: 257768-551-DC115 Got that? I want you to call this number…"

McGee gaped as Tony rattled off the direct line to Director Vance's office.

"I am giving you permission to put me on hold while you call the Director of NCIS to validate my identification number," there was a pause while DiNozzo listened. "No, I'm not trying to bully you into doing something you shouldn't. _I'm telling you how to do your damn job!_" he shouted into the mouthpiece.

"Hey, Tony," McGee interjected when Tony pulled the phone away from his ear when the tacky hold music came back on, "You may want to tone it down a bit – she's just doing what she's told."

"Dispatch 101, Probie, you don't dick around with the big dogs. They bite. My first two months in Peoria were at the dispatch desk. You get a federal agent on the line the rules are simple: you verify their ID, get them what they need and send them on their merry way. Your superiors are happy, the politicians are happy, and the agencies remember that they were treated nice the next time jurisdiction comes into question."

The two men stood in silence for another minute. The music cut out on the phone. DiNozzo glanced at the display to make sure he hadn't been disconnected. He brought the phone up to his ear and frowned at the sniff he heard on the other end. He really didn't mean to make her cry. "17:32 is when the call came in? You're sure? Great, thanks, you don't know just how important that information is…no, I'm not really a bastard: that would be my boss."

DiNozzo frowned at McGee. "She hung up on me."

"Go figure," Tim rolled his eyes.

"So what did you need? Or are you just stalking me?"

"Ah, Gibbs and Ziva are on their way back here, I wasn't sure where you went, and I thought it would be good if you were in the room when Gibbs got back," McGee stated as if it were obvious.

"You could have called my phone."

"You had just walked out the door," Tim sighed, exasperated. "So what's so important about when Lt. Hastings was discovered?"

"Patience, Probie-San, the master arrives," Tony stepped forward and opened the door for Ziva and his boss.

"You've found your calling as a doormat, Tony?" Ziva inquired with a smirk.

"Door_man_, Ziva. It's door-_man,"_ he corrected.

"No, Tony I meant door_mat_," she sniffed as she breezed by. "Doormen are polite, well groomed and clean."

"Hey!" he protested but cut it short when Gibbs fixed him with a stare.

The four agents gathered in the hotel room. McGee and Tony briefed them on their latest findings. Tony finished up his findings on Dawson's uncle.

"Something was bothering me when I read through the transcripts from MTAC. It seemed strange to me that the Coast Guard didn't spot Lt. Hastings while he was still at sea. I checked with the State Troopers, and the 911 call on the Lieutenant came in at 17:32. Boss, according to what the Admiral told you yesterday, the last transmission from the sub came in at 16:49," DiNozzo paused meaningfully.

McGee chimed in, "Unless Lt. Hastings had some sort of help; there is no way he made it to shore in less than an hour based on what the Coast Guard said about conditions…"

"They were either still at that position when the transmission came in, or they somehow managed to falsify their location data," Gibbs stated thoughtfully.

"They were buying themselves time to get away," Ziva concluded.

"McGee," Gibbs turned to his resident computer expert, "I want you to contact the radio officer that took the call from Knoll. Find out if there's any way to trace where the transmission actually originated from. Ziva, DiNozzo, I want you two to get up to Newport. There will be a warrant waiting for you at the NCIS office there. Go through Knoll and Dawson's apartments and see what you can find to give us some more direction."

Tony snatched the keys to the sedan off the desk before Ziva could grab them. The Mossad officer arched her brow. "Do you know how to get to the ferry? I didn't think so," DiNozzo reasoned.

"We have the navigator."

"The GPS doesn't improve your skills for driving on ice."

Ziva smiled as she followed Tony out the door. Gibbs had told her it was going to be a long drive and truthfully, she preferred not to drive on icy roads. While her driving was aggressive, she knew the limits of her vehicles and ice took that control out of her hands. She didn't like it. Not that she'd ever admit that out loud. So she let Tony win this battle.


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N:** Thanks for all that have reviewed. Additional updates on my profile. And a special thank you to my built-in husband-beta. Any remaining errors are my own.

_Chapter 7_

Gibbs sipped his coffee. It had been two hours since he had sent Ziva and Tony off to the Newport base. The waiting room was quiet. Elizabeth and her husband had gone by the time he returned from to the hospital. For that, he was grateful. He suspected Elizabeth would return when the Lieutenant's wife arrived. Until then the solitude gave him time to think.

Ducky had checked in with the results of the autopsy. Captain Richter had been killed before his body had been dumped into the ocean. The ME estimated he had lived approximately fifteen minutes after being wounded, but there had been no sign of water in his lungs or stomach. He was unable to tell which man had been killed first. The question was: Were the bodies dumped at the sub, or had Lt. Hastings tried to bring the men home and dumped the bodies because he couldn't carry the weight?

Abby had determined that the bullets that killed the two men had come from different guns, but couldn't say whose weapons they were from. Gibbs paced the room for the hundredth time out of frustration. There was so much speculation, so many assumptions that could be made based off the little data they had. There was nothing that could even qualify as a hypothesis much less a theory at this point. He glanced at the clock. It read 11:12. He'd been on this case for twenty-seven hours now, and nothing that qualified as a viable lead.

It would be another couple hours at least before Ziva and Tony could report back initial findings from Knoll or Dawson's apartment.

McGee was working with the radio technicians at Newport, as of an hour ago they had started making some headway.

And here, Lt. Hastings continued to sleep. The one man that could give them the direction they needed was silent. Gibbs raked his hand through his hair. He checked his watch. 11:15. Another half-hour or so would bring the Lieutenant's wife. Maybe hearing his wife's voice would be what the young man needed to break through the barriers and regain consciousness.

He took another sip of coffee. He frowned that the bottom of the cup had been reached. Tossing the cardboard cup into the trash, he stepped out of the waiting room. "Be back in five," he said to the nurse as he passed the station. He'd have to settle for more of what the hospital passed for coffee.

~*~*~*~

Ziva quietly seethed on the bench. She had no idea where on the ferry Tony had sequestered himself to, and truthfully for the moment she didn't care. She had been shocked to hear that her partner had not spoken to his father in over twenty years and was curious to the cause of the rift. She had seen Tony was in emotional turmoil and only wanted to help.

On the drive to the ferry she had not heeded Gibbs' warning to let Tony's past lie. She had pushed, expecting him to make some jokes or concoct some outrageous story, but she held out some small hope he'd open up a little. The third time she asked, he had slammed on the brakes and looked at her with a fury she had never seen in his eyes.

"_Officer David, you will drop this subject immediately or I will have an official reprimand placed in your file for harassment and unprofessional behavior."_

His words still echoed through her ears. It wasn't the threat that angered her so. It was certainly within his capacity to do just what he said. Technically as Liaison, she fell under the traditional chain of command within the team. Tony was her superior. She had pushed the boundaries before. She had crossed boundaries before, but never had Tony turned so coldly professional. Didn't he understand that she just wanted to be there for him as a friend?

She was angry at him for overreacting. She was angry at him for not trusting her enough to share his past with her. And she was angry at herself for not recognizing the boundary she should not have crossed.

Fifteen minutes later they were docking in New London. She followed the string of passengers to the vehicle deck watching for Tony. As she approached the car she realized she could stop looking. Tony was in the driver's seat, reclined back with his eyes closed. She knocked gently on the window so as not to startle him. He opened his eyes, glanced her way and unlocked the doors.

Ziva climbed into the passenger seat. She didn't have to be a trained Mossad officer to recognize he was still angry with her. "Did you have a nice nap?" she inquired politely.

Silence.

Tony followed the signs and lights that directed him off the ferry. He listened to the GPS navigator as its electronic voice helped him negotiate roads that hadn't existed over twenty years ago. Occasionally he hears Ziva say _something_. He was angry with her because she couldn't let the subject go, wouldn't accept a boundary when it was marked. He had explained _nicely_ twice that he didn't want to discuss it. The third time had pushed him over the edge. It was simply too much for him to deal with right now, especially on his sleep deficit. And that lack of control made him angry.

Thirty minutes later, Ziva opened the passenger window.

"What the hell, Ziva?!" he howled at the frigid blast of air.

"At least you are talking to me now!" she shot back. "Will you stop acting like a child and discuss this like an adult?"

He glanced over to her, "No."

~*~*~*~

Gibbs stood in the corner of Lt. Hastings ICU room, trying to be as unobtrusive as possible. Dana was sitting on the bed quietly talking to her husband. He had worked through a number of covert ways to get Dana into the room. In the end, he had simply let her enter the room. He justified the breach of his own protocol by rationalizing that this would accelerate the Lieutenant's healing. At least, that's what he would put in the official report.

The nurses had been in and out of the room a couple of times making their routine checks. Gibbs glanced at his watch. It was nearly 13:00. Movement from the nurses' station caught his eye. The head nurse was waving him over. He stepped out of the room, indicated to Sgt. Vuong to step into the room. Dana Hastings barely glanced up from the bed as he departed.

The nurse handed him a phone. "Keep it brief," she ordered tersely.

"Gibbs," he answered. He listened intently as McGee spoke rapidly on the other end. After several dizzying sentences of geek-speak, Gibbs patience wore out. "Spit it out, McGee. The short version."

Gibbs smirked as he heard McGee take a deep breath before summarizing. That smirk grew to a full-fledged smile as McGee revealed what they had learned.

"Have you notified the Admiral? Good. Good work, McGee. Grab some lunch and some sleep while you can. DiNozzo and David will likely have information for you to start running soon."

Gibbs hung up the phone. They finally had a direction. Somehow those boys had managed to work the impossible and determine where the sub had been when it radioed its final transmission. Sixty nautical miles to the south-east, it was a lot of open ocean, but it was a direction.

A trembling voice came from behind him, "Agent Gibbs, I think he's waking up."

Gibbs grasped Dana's elbow in a reassuring gesture. A nurse followed closely on his heels. As he entered the room he could hear a soft whisper coming from the Lieutenant. The nurse sprang into action, checking vitals, fussing over the IVs. Gibbs followed Dana to the other side of the bed.

Both leaned over trying to hear what Lt. Hastings was whispering.

"Talk to him, let him know you're here," he quietly coached Dana.

"Mason, honey it's me. I'm here. Can you open your eyes for me?" For several minutes she softly coaxed her husband into consciousness.

The young Lieutenant finally opened his eyes. Dana touched his cheek, drawing his attention to her. His eyes rolled as he tried to get his bearings. They finally settled on his wife. "Love…" he whispered.

Gibbs moved in closer to Dana, into the Lieutenant's field of vision. Lt. Hastings blinked so slowly Gibbs feared he had lost consciousness again. Then the sailor's brown eyes met his. He swallowed hard, fighting to stay awake, "traitor... Deege Dock… fade... abandon…"

Lt. Hastings eyes closed. Gibbs straightened back up; he suspected the young man wouldn't be waking again for a while. Those cryptic words rolled over and over in his mind. He knew the Lieutenant was trying to tell him something. He just didn't know what.

~*~*~*~

Tony breathed a sigh of relief when they pulled up to the gate at Newport Naval Station. Ziva had finally capitulated about twenty miles back and closed the window. Showing his credentials, the guard directed him to the NCIS office on base. He pulled into a parking spot, killed the ignition and leaned back. The only sound in the car was the clicking coming from the cooling engine.

A minute passed. "I'm sorry, Tony," Ziva offered. "I was out of line up."

"Line, Ziva," Tony corrected wearily, "Out of line." It was an automatic response, correcting Ziva's idiomatic errors.

He continued staring straight ahead. The anger he had been holding onto the entire drive draining out of him. Now that they were here, he had the case to focus on again. Something to divert his attention from the issues he didn't want to deal with. He turned and looked at his partner. "Me, too," Tony said quietly.

The field office was bustling with activity, tired agents barely acknowledging their presence. A couple looked resentful at the DC agents invading their turf. Rightfully this case should have been theirs, but for the unusually high number of major cases that hit their desks in the last two days. They waited longer than they needed to for the warrants to be retrieved, the legal clerk apparently having lost track of them among the burgeoning pile of warrants on her desk.

Tony tried hard to play nice. His patience was thin, but he suspected they would need to be back here at some point for questioning. So he pasted on his trademark smile and thanked the clerk for her time.

Two minutes out of the gate, Tony's cell rang. "DiNozzo…got it… thanks, McGee."

Tony glanced over at Ziva, "McGee and some Navy nerds found out where the transmission originated from. He wants us to look for anything that might point to where they could be headed to the southeast of Montauk."

"Tony, that could be anything from Bermuda to Brazil to South Africa!"

"I know, Zee-vah, that's why they want us to look for clues," he sniped, "Remember that whole 'Investigative' part of the agency we work for?"

"I am aware of that, Tony," she bit back, "I am just saying that depending on what we find, there could be a lot of false leads. 'Southeast of Montauk' is pretty general, yes?"

"It is, but at least it's _something._ Remember, Dawson already owns property in the Bahamas; it doesn't take a wild leap to think he might be heading that direction. He'd be crazy to do so, but then, he did just commit Grand Theft Submarine against the US Navy."

The agents went to Knoll's apartment first. He was on the second floor of a converted old Queen Anne home. It appeared the house had been divided into four separate apartments. They had been unable to track down the manager of the apartments, so Ziva picked the lock. She pretended she didn't notice Tony trying to figure out her technique.

Once inside, Tony glanced back out into the yard to see if there was a "For Rent" sign he missed. Spartan would appear over-decorated to this place. The hardwood floors were freshly cleaned. There was nothing on the drop-leaf table in the kitchen. The counters were bare. DiNozzo started looking through the cupboards and drawers. There was one plate, one bowl, one cup and one set of silverware. There was barely enough food in the cupboards to eat three meals. The refrigerator was empty, in fact, it was turned off.

Ziva was snapping pictures as they went through the apartment. The living room contained an armchair and a torch light. There walls were bare. Knoll's bathroom was spotless, and there were no toiletries to be seen, even the medicine cabinet was empty.

They walked into the lieutenant's bedroom. "I guess Knoll doesn't bring much company home," DiNozzo snickered, nodding towards the twin-sized bed. White sheets and a gray woolen blanket covered the small bed. A couple of milk crates served as a nightstand. The alarm clock was unplugged. A single book sat next to the lamp.

"I don't think he was planning on retuning," Ziva observed as she indicated the empty closet.

Tony was looking through each drawer in the bureau, looking for any hidden compartments or documents stashed under the drawer liners. He shook his head, "Nothing here either."

The only piece of furniture left in the apartment was a desk. It looked like something a public school had offloaded about thirty years ago. Within minutes they had worked their way through all the drawers and had come up with a pen, a pencil and a half gone legal pad for their troubles.

"Well, let's bag the legal pad, Abby might be able to pull something off it," Tony sighed. After the cursory search they went back through the apartment more thoroughly. They checked vents for recent tampering. They searched for evidence of loose floorboards or hidden wall compartments. After an hour they admitted defeat. There was nothing in the apartment that would be of any immediate use.

Dawson's apartment reminded Tony of the frat house he had lived in for two years at Ohio State. If he hadn't known beforehand that this apartment belonged to a serviceman, he'd have never pegged the occupant as military. The walls were covered with posters that would have made Abby envious. One of the bedrooms had been converted into a computer room. He recognized the soundboard and the turntables, but the other equipment he couldn't readily identify. He guessed that Lt. Dawson spent some time mixing his own music.

Empty beer bottles were scattered around the apartment. Stacks of pizza boxes littered every available surface. Judging from the smell, the boxes weren't all empty. The kitchen contained party bowls containing the dregs of tortilla chips and salsa. There was a green substance that Tony prayed was guacamole. Tony wished they were back at Knoll's apartment. This place was going to take some time.

"Must have been a hell of a party," DiNozzo observed.

"Either he didn't know they were shipping out on a trial run, or he simply was not planning on coming back," Ziva commented as she wrinkled her nose.

DiNozzo drifted to the back of the apartment. The bathroom was a mess and smelled faintly of vomit. Dawson's bedroom was a contrast to the rest of the apartment. It was neat and modestly decorated. Tony glanced to his partner, "Let's start here."

Nearly three hours later, Tony carried the last box of evidence out to the car. They weren't certain any of it was relevant or not, that would have to be determined later. There was a real-estate folder they had found with expensive homes in exotic locales. They had collected his entire file drawer of financial records, his two Macbook computers and an external storage drive. Ziva had found a small box hidden under Dawson's mattress that had contained a journal and some pictures.

"Gibbs, we have just completed the search of both apartments. We found nothing immediately incriminating, but are bringing back several boxes of evidence. We will be returning to the base to question the lieutenants' CO and a few acquaintances if we can before returning to Southampton, I believe we will want McGee to learn what is on Dawson's computers as quickly as possible," Ziva snapped her phone shut after leaving her message.

"We're going to have to hurry if we are going to catch that last ferry, it leaves at 7pm," Tony warned through a jaw-splitting yawn.

~*~*~*~

McGee worked on both Macbooks while holding a conversation with Abby. They were trying to work through some encrypted files on Dawson's computer. Ziva was examining Dawson's financial documents. Tony was reading through Dawson's journal. The man had lived through a few rough years. His journal chronicled the illness of his daughter that had died three years ago from leukemia. Six-months after her death, his wife divorced him. This wasn't really new news to Tony, Dawson's CO had revealed that much to him during their interview.

What that interview didn't reveal was the rage that grew from one page to the next. Lt. Dawson first blamed the hospital for inadequate treatment, then their healthcare plan for not covering experimental treatments. That anger slowly grew to encompass the government in general. They were responsible for the medical coverage. He put down the journal when he reached the last page.

"I think we may have a motive here," Tony stated heavily.

Ziva looked up from her documents, "I have found something interesting here. Elliot Dawson's estate papers were included in this file. There was a fund provisioned for burial and funerary costs, but that fund was never touched. Lt. Dawson was the only living heir in the Will and his signature would have been required to release the funds. There is no corresponding withdrawal from Dawson's bank accounts at the time of his uncle's death nor a significant increase in credit card debt."

Tony went back to the box of personal items and rifled through some of the papers. Holding up a newspaper clipping, he said, "According to this, Elliot was given a wake, a funeral and buried at St. Andrew's Cemetery just outside of Nassau."

"That would have been expensive," Ziva stated.

"So who paid for the funeral?" McGee interjected.

"Or was there really a funeral to pay for?" Tony mused.


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N:** _Apologies again for the delay. I'm sure you get tired of reading that, but I'm going to write it anyway. Thanks again to all who have shared their thoughts on the story!_

_Chapter 8_

_His heart pounded. Frayed nerves were near to overload. He couldn't believe he was here, that he was doing this. The haunting sound of the active sonar seeking them echoed through the headphones. He knew without looking at the display that the ships were close. He was using every ounce of his skill, pushing the technology of this amazing piece of machinery to the limit to keep from discovery. He looked over to his captive driving the boat. The man had maintained the same wooden expression since he had seen the video. He had acquiesced to every demand. For now, he was fully compliant. _

_The passive sonar display showed four contacts within range. Two more days, that was how much longer he needed to keep up the cat and mouse game. Two days and it would all be over._

~*~*~*~

"Abby, I have to sleep," McGee pleaded.

"It's your head, McGee," Abby countered, "Remember, I'm not there to smile at the boss for you."

McGee sighed. "Abby, I've had an hour of sleep since I got up almost two days ago. My brain can't process anymore without some rest. I haven't had a steady stream of Caf-Pows from Ducky to keep me going. It is going to cost us more time if I make a mistake in the decryption because I'm too tired."

Tim looked blearily at the clock on the computer screen. It cheerfully displayed 3:13 am. He could feel the sense of euphoria starting to seep in that signaled his body was about to shut itself down. "Abby, I'm going to hang up now. I'll call you back in a couple hours."

He felt bad for it, but he hung up amid Abby's protest. He knew she was feeling the pressure, even from several hundred miles away. She'd be mad at him but he could deal with her wrath when they returned. For now, all he cared about was a couple hours of shut-eye.

"Feeling any sharp pains in your behind, Probie?" Tony muffled from where he was laying face down on a pillow.

Tim stared at Tony, mystified, "What?"

"Abby's probably sticking pins in your voodoo doll as I speak. Only one man has the guts to hang up on Abby without fear of retribution, and you aren't it."

"It's not the first time," McGee admitted candidly, "And I'm still pain-free."

"Impressive," Tony yawned.

McGee set the alarm on his cell, knowing 05:00 would come all too soon. Before turning the light off, he grabbed his iPod. Any minute now Ziva would begin snoring. He stretched out on the couch, turned on the tunes and was out before the end of the first song.

Ziva violently came awake, reaching for her gun. She pointed her gun towards the door as she heard it click shut. She slid off the bed quietly and reached behind her to turn on the light. It was a risk that she would be momentarily blinded by the light but the risk applied to any intruder as well. The sudden light woke McGee.

"What's going on, what's the matter?" he muttered as he reached for his cell.

Ziva put her gun down on the nightstand. "Nothing," she stated, "Tony has left the room."

McGee blinked a few times to clear his blurry vision and followed Ziva's gesture to the empty bed. He looked at his cell. He'd only been asleep an hour. Groaning, he rolled over on the couch. "I'm going back to sleep."

Ziva stood looking at the door uncertainly. She was tired; she knew that Tony had to be exhausted as well. Knowing how her own demons plagued her by night she suspected a dream had woken him. She was tempted to follow after. But his angry words still echoed in her ears. She sighed. If he wanted to talk, he'd have to come to her. She turned off the light and climbed back onto the bed, falling asleep within seconds of hitting the pillow.

Tony sat in the overly plush armchair in the hotel lobby. He stared mindlessly at the ZNN crawl as it soundlessly broadcast the news on the muted television. Visions from the nightmare that woke him played in slow motion on his internal movie-screen. It was the same sequence of snapshot moments of his life that plagued his dreams. From the really bad cases he had worked to the final moments of friends he had lost, the nightmare surfaced when his defenses were low. This week certainly qualified.

He leaned back in the chair and rubbed his face. Glancing over to the overnight desk attendant he sighed. Hoping the young man wouldn't be alarmed at a guest choosing to sleep in the lounge instead of their room he closed his eyes. He knew the sleep would be light, but it would be something. And the subconscious undercurrent of potential embarrassment should he wake up screaming would keep the nightmares at bay.

DiNozzo snapped his eyes open to find Ziva and McGee peering at him like a side-show curiosity.

"Do you think the human neck is meant to bend at that angle?" Ziva asked McGee clinically.

"Not sure. That would be a good question for Ducky," Tim replied drily.

Tony straightened up. "No need to ask Ducky," he countered acidly, "The pain in my neck confirms it. What time is it?"

"It's is nearly 06:00," Ziva stated and looked around at the few guests that were starting to wander about the lobby area. "McGee and Abby have an update."

The senior field agent unfolded himself from the chair, his body at that moment feeling _very_ senior. The cushy chair had not been kind. "Well, let's hear it.

McGee looked around the lobby at the curious eyes from the desk attendant and the few guests that were starting to wander about. "We're meeting up with Gibbs shortly. There's enough time for you to shower."

Tony looked down at his rumpled clothes, glanced at Ziva and theatrically sniffed his armpit. "Not a bad idea, Probie."

Fifteen minutes later DiNozzo dropped off a laundry bag at the front desk. The shower had refreshed him, more so than the catnap on the chair he now believed somehow violated an article of the Geneva Convention. He pushed through the door, holding it open to allow his teammates through.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to go outside with a wet head?" McGee quipped at Tony as he set his laptop in the trunk.

"My mother didn't believe in old wives tales, McGullible," Tony replied icily. "Let's get the boss' coffee before he turns into Mr. Hyde."

~*~*~*~

McGee gave Gibbs and his large cup of real coffee a wide berth. There had been too many times he had accidentally spilled, consumed or otherwise come between the boss and his ambrosia. He finished connecting the laptop to the small projector. It was no plasma, but it would suffice. The small hospital conference room gave them a measure of privacy to regroup and debrief.

"Abby and I worked through most of the encryptions on Dawson's computers," McGee began without preamble. "I won't bore you with details, but this guy is good. While his formal education is based in electrical engineering and acoustics, he has some serious computer skills. Along with the custom encryptions we encountered on a number of his files, we also did some research on a few of the programs we found on the machines. The program he uses for mixing his music is his own."

Abby's voice drifted up from the speaker phone, "Yeah, and it's really, really cool programming. A friend of mine would kill to get a hold of software that works this…"

"Abby," Gibbs broke in sternly, knowing the forensic scientist was about to leap into a Ducky-worthy anecdote.

"Right," she acknowledged. "So, anyway, most of the encrypted files are music files, stuff that he's mixed. I've listened to some of it; he covers a fairly broad range of the techno spectrum. The rest of the files we could decrypt were documents and emails. We haven't gotten through all of the email yet, but there's a lot. I don't think this guy ever cleaned out his inbox. There's stuff in here from 2001."

"I keep hearing the word 'most'," Gibbs observed.

McGee nodded, "Right. There were two directories on the second machine that had much stronger encryptions. Abby's server is still working through the decryption."

"How long?"

"Hard to say, bossman," Abby piped in. "Could be another hour, could be a week. I thought Tim told you this guy was good?"

There was a beat of silence before Gibbs responded. "Yeah. McGee mentioned that. I also thought you two were good."

"Gibbs!" Abby squawked in protest. "We are good! My babies just need a little more time to work their magic."

Gibbs looked at Tony and Ziva, "What did you learn in the interviews about Dawson?"

Tony cleared his throat, "Everyone we talked to said that he's friendly, well liked, one of those kind of guys that you can count on for anything. His CO stated that he had become a little more withdrawn after the death of his daughter and subsequent divorce. No one saw him as being capable of doing something that might put the country at risk. No one had any knowledge of the money he had inherited. He didn't live like he had that kind of money. Granted we didn't talk to all of his acquaintances and co-workers but Dawson never mentioned any animosity towards the government like he stated in his journal."

Gibbs sighed heavily, "So, we have a suspicious inheritance from an uncle that was under investigation for weapons smuggling – given the lack of tax record, there's a small chance that Dawson doesn't even know about the fortune. We have some angry words from a grieving father and some heavily encrypted files on a computer which so far are nothing more than music. We have no concrete evidence against him."

The agents in the room were quiet as they absorbed that summary. They weren't thinking about the circumstantial nature of the evidence in terms of standing up in court; they were worried it was leading them down the wrong trail.

"We need more information on Elliot. Vance has a team en route to the Bahamas to check out the cemetery and find a record of attendees to the funeral." Gibbs rubbed his eyes, "What do we know about Knoll?"

"Very little," Ziva stated, "Outside of what is in his school records, he has no family, no friends on base. The couple co-workers we talked to stated that he was very quiet, to the point of 'creeping them up' I believe was the term they used…"

"'Creeping them _out_', Zee-vah," Tony interjected.

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him before continuing, "His CO said he performed exemplary work but did not interact with his peers. His apartment was virtually bare, he had no home computer."

"What about his work computer, anything on there?" Gibbs asked.

"We don't know yet, Gibbs, they're being cagey about giving us access to those machines," Abby said hesitantly.

Gibbs clenched his teeth. It never seemed to fail that classified material would hold up an investigation unnecessarily. He'd have to run that up the chain after they got done with their briefing. The only thing keeping him from calling Vance now was he didn't think that these highly intelligent men would be stupid enough to leave evidence of espionage on their Navy-owned machines.

"What does he spend his money on?" Gibbs queried thoughtfully.

McGee blinked at the non-sequitur, "I don't follow, Boss."

"When you went through Knoll's financials, you said he had just over $6,000 in the bank. Given his lifestyle, he should have a lot more money saved. Where is it going?"

The three agents cast glances at each other. How did they miss that? "Good question, Boss," McGee responded quietly even as he began typing in search parameters.

~*~*~*~

Tony stepped out of the small conference room. Ziva had volunteered to go back upstairs to sit with Lt. Hastings an hour earlier. McGee was conferring with Abby on the progress being made with Dawson's decryptions. Gibbs had gone outside to make his phone call to Vance. The senior field agent took the opportunity to stretch his legs and stop by the cafeteria.

The hallway from the administrative offices of the hospital emptied out into the large foyer. DiNozzo caught himself looking at the wall of names as he passed by. Donors and benefactors: the people who had made the children's wing possible, the new fountain in the entry way, the Japanese garden off of the cafeteria. There were a lot of names he recognized on the wall, the Hamptons were home to a number of well-known personages. The list of donors that exceeded the million-dollar gift mark was certainly longer than most the hospitals he had been in. Each small brass plate was engraved with a name and a year and listed in chronological order. He paused, drawn by the sheer inanity the exercise of reading through the list.

He smirked at some of the names he recognized. Marjorie Harris, the crazy spinster from several houses down had made a couple of donations. He found it humorous that she finally found something to spend her money on aside from her cats. Names of kids he had gone to school with, names he recognized from his parents' parties. In the 1995 section, Elizabeth Hastings' name appeared. She appeared several more times. He paused for a long moment when he reached 2003: Marcello DiNozzo. His name appeared each year after, and in 2006 his and Elizabeth's names were etched on the same plate. Well, that answered the question on when they got married.

He walked away from the wall shaking his head. His father had never been the philanthropic type. He was probably getting some decent tax-breaks for the effort, as well as good publicity. And there it was at the end of the wall: _Construction graciously financed by Long Island Premier Bank, Trust & Loan_. His father's bank, now the donations made sense.

His expression darkened considerably on his journey to the cafeteria. He had successfully put his father out of his mind for the last several hours. And now here he was at the forefront of thought again. He couldn't wait for this damn case to be over and get off the Island.

He walked into the cafeteria, narrowly avoiding being run over by a pair of hurried interns. It was pretty busy, people rushing to get the last of the breakfast food before it was all cleared away. Tony made his way over to the tray containing the last of the pastries. Pickings were slim and he was about to snag the last jelly doughnut when he was jostled from behind.

"I'm so sorry," came a gasp from over his shoulder.

He turned and found himself face-to-face with a pretty young woman. Her eyes showed a hint of red from tears, and she looked like she had spent most the night awake.

"Hey," Tony gave her most charming smile, "no harm, no foul. Would you like a hand with that?" Tony gestured to the tray she was trying to juggle along with a black shoulder bag, a handbag and a coat.

The woman smiled as she asked meekly, "Would you mind?"

Tony held out his hands to accept the tray, "Not in the least."

She readjusted the shoulder bag from where it had slipped, draped the coat over her left arm and secured a better grip on her handbag. "I really appreciate it; I guess I could have dropped my stuff off at a table…"

"It looks like you've got more important things on your mind right now," he said not unkindly.

She walked over to the beverage cooler and pulled out a fruit smoothie. Tony held out the tray as she hesitated, looking unsure of what to do with the bottle. She nodded as she put it on the tray, "Yeah, my husband is in ICU right now. It's been hard, he can't talk much. And I can't bring my daughter," she sniffed.

DiNozzo's eyes widened in alarm, crying woman was not something he was prepared to deal with at the moment. He breathed a sigh of relief as she gave him a watery smile, tears banished for the moment, "That should do it."

Tony followed her to a table overlooking the newly landscaped Japanese garden. Even covered in snow he could see that it was expertly done. He set the tray down. "There you go. Next time, you might want to _wear_ the coat," he winked as he teased gently.

She chuckled, "Thank you," she trailed off, indicating she wanted to thank him by name.

The response was automatic, "Special Agent Tony DiNozzo, at your service ma'am."

"Special Agent?" the young woman repeated curiously, "wait, are you with Agent Gibbs?"

Tony's smile fell. This had to be Lt. Hastings wife. Gibbs was going to kill him. "Ahh," he started to respond looking around the cafeteria for a way to escape. She was peering at him in a way that made him feel like he was a subject on Ducky's autopsy table.

"Dana?" a query came from over his shoulder. He cringed. He knew that was Elizabeth's voice. The older woman came around him and embraced Dana. Tony tried to back away, only to find chairs blocking his exit. The noise turned the women's attention back to him.

"Liz, this is Special Agent Tony _DiNozzo_," Dana's posture had changed, her arms were crossed. She was giving him that look again.

"Excuse me, ladies, but um, I…ah, need to be going," DiNozzo stammered out. He figured his best out now was to say nothing more and get the hell outta Dodge.

Elizabeth reached out and grasped his arm, "DiNozzo? I thought I recognized you somehow the other night. It's your eyes."

"Really, I have to go," he tried pulling away again. Curse the damn chairs.

"Wait," Elizabeth said firmly, "how are you related to Marc?"

She didn't know. Why should he be surprised his father wouldn't share he had a son? He wasn't going to be the one to let that cat out of the bag. As much pleasure as he might get at making his father's life miserable, he wasn't going to hurt this woman to do it. He gave her a look. He pulled his elbow from her grasp.

"I need to go," he repeated firmly. He turned and walked away. Curse him and his damn mouth, his weakness for pretty women. He couldn't make it back to that tiny conference room fast enough. He was almost to the Wall of Donors when he heard footsteps behind him. Clack, clack, clack, nurses and doctors didn't wear heels. He increased his pace, counting on his longer legs to increase the distance.

He would have made it if that patient hadn't been wheeled out in front of him from an adjoining corridor. A small but firm hand on his shoulder spun him around. He found himself eye-to-eye with the man he had never wanted to see again in his life.

"This is Special Agent Tony _DiNozzo_, Marc," Elizabeth said icily.

The two men stared at each other, fury in the eyes of one, disgust in the eyes of the other.

"What the hell are you doing here?" the elder DiNozzo hissed.

Tony growled, "My job."


	9. Chapter 9

**A/N:** Thanks again to all who have reviewed. Additional notes in my profile. Without further ado, the chapter many of you have been waiting for…

_Chapter 9_

Tony had never realized he had grown up to be the same height as his father. It was a small blessing he didn't have to look up to the man anymore. His brain suddenly felt like McGee's typewriter with too many keys pressed at once. Everything that made coherent thought was jammed up. He glanced over to Elizabeth. She looked furious.

Marc took it as a sign of weakness when Tony broke off his eye contact. "Your job," he scoffed, "no wonder there hasn't been any progress made. How the hell did you get a federal job, anyway?"

Tony winced involuntarily. Bile rose in his throat. That tone had only been heard in his nightmares for so long. He held his gaze on Elizabeth a moment longer, her expression had changed. She obviously hadn't thought how she would handle this situation past exposing Tony to her husband. Suddenly the typewriter jam cleared. He turned his gaze back to his father. He chose not rise to the bait. Despite his occasional insecurities, he _knew_ he had made something of himself and he did not need to prove it to the man who was his father only through biology. The only way out of this was to walk away.

Tony took a deep breath. He gave one last glance to Elizabeth a silent apology for the unintended complication he had just created in her life. He turned his back and started walking towards the front entrance. His hands trembled as he walked. In spite of himself, he was scared out of his mind. Such an act of defiance would have brought painful punishment once upon a time and his body remembered.

"Anthony Dean DiNozzo, you have not been dismissed," Marc's cold, commanding voice boomed.

His feet actually stopped. What was he, one of Pavlov's dogs? He was about to take another step forward when the little self-control he had been able to muster cracked. He had thought that he had nothing to say to that man, he realized how wrong he was.

Slowly he turned around, his father's flushed face stared him down. Elizabeth was muttering something to him, her face having gone white as she realized her error. The foyer was strangely quiet. He took a step forward. Tony replied in a deceptively calm voice, "You lost the right to order me around twenty-three years ago. I was going to let you use whatever lies you wanted to explain to your wife who I was. But you couldn't just leave it be. You always had to be the one in control, have the last word. Well, _Father_, do you have anything to say to me? Or did you just want to see if you could still jerk my leash?"

Tony had brought himself back into Marc's personal space. He fought against the urge to throw the man up against the wall, let the rage out with fists. The small, still-rational part of his brain kept him in check, reminded him that he was not his father.

"All you had to do was turn around and walk away, pretend like I was dead to you. After all that's what you've wanted since I was five, wasn't it?" disgust dripped off of Tony's words.

"If only you had made it that easy," Marc shot back.

Elizabeth intervened alarmed at the vitriol in Marc's tone. She tried pulling Marc back, "We should go, this was a mistake."

"Damn right this was a mistake. We should have found out who everyone involved with this case was. If this," Marc pushed at Tony's shoulder, "is the best they have to offer us we need to make some phone calls. Your brother will never see justice until we do."

Despite his best efforts to not let the words hurt him, they still cut. Damn it, he didn't need this man's approval. "Do not touch me again, or I will have you arrested for assaulting a federal agent," Tony warned.

"Marc, let's go," Elizabeth urged.

Marc shrugged off her grasp.

"Arrest me, on what grounds?" Marc mocked as he pushed Tony's shoulder again.

The younger man swallowed hard, he knew he was being baited. He recognized the irrational fervor that was rising in his father's eyes. This situation was fast approaching out of control but he couldn't walk away. "Any unprovoked, aggressive physical contact against a federal agent can be construed as assault and is grounds for arrest. Keep it up, I'd love for nothing more than to see you in jail," Tony baited back.

"You never could stand up for yourself, first it was your nannies then Steve you hid behind and now you can't face me like a man, hiding behind your badge. You always shirked responsibility for your failures," Marc scoffed.

Elizabeth tried a different tack, "Agent DiNozzo, I apologize I didn't…" She broke off when he side-stepped her attempt to turn him her direction.

"_My_ failures?" Tony barked a harsh laugh, "I could have graduated from Harvard magna cum laude and you still would have perceived it as a failure on my part. Why don't we talk about your failures, _dad_?"

The two men were almost nose-to-nose. After Marc had called Tony back both men had had barely spoken louder than a casual conversation. Elizabeth was no stranger to confrontation though and recognized this situation was escalating. She made a decision, while she stood nearly a foot shorter than her husband and his son, she had to do something. She stepped forward to push between them…

…and was blocked by Marc's arm. The threat was implicit. Do Not Interfere. She had never known Marc to be a violent man, but she felt the underlying tension in his arm as he held her back. Muscles were vibrating, primed for use. A quick glance at Tony, the tension in his jaw confirmed he was in the same state.

She backed away. She looked around the foyer for assistance. The people passing by cast them no more than a curious glance. They saw a heated conversation and nothing more: a common, everyday occurrence in a hospital. Elizabeth remembered what Officer David had told her before she had gone down to meet Dana in the cafeteria. Ziva had said they would be in the conference room all day if Lt. Hastings awoke and one of the agents was not there to hear what he had to say. She hoped one of Agent DiNozzo's fellow agents would be able to talk him away, de-escalate the situation. She would only be gone a couple minutes. Casting a furtive glace back to the two men, she could leave them for two minutes, couldn't she?

Tim jumped in his seat at the pounding on the door, scowling at the resultant gibberish on the computer screen from his startled fingers. He was about to rise to answer the door when Elizabeth opened the door to the room.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this, but you need to come with me right away," she said in an urgent tone that brooked no argument.

Tim looked at her questioningly and then frowned. "I'm sorry Elizabeth; I can't just leave this room unattended. What's going on, has something happened with Lt. Hastings?"

"No, it's nothing with my brother. I need you to come and talk to Agent DiNozzo. "

McGee looked at Elizabeth closely for the first time since she entered the room. She looked a little distraught and a little guilty. A little alarm bell was starting to go off in the back of his mind.

"Agent DiNozzo, what did he do? What happened?" he asked pensively.

"I… I made a mistake," she admitted candidly, "I should have let Agent DiNozzo walk away, but I was so shocked I wasn't thinking clearly…"

"Elizabeth, what happened?"

"I brought Marc to Agent DiNozzo," she revealed, "I didn't know anything about Agent DiNozzo, Marc has never said anything about him! They're in the foyer and the conversation isn't going well. I couldn't break them apart; I thought someone from his team might have better luck with Agent DiNozzo."

McGee looked at Elizabeth uncertainly. He thought it highly unlikely that she wouldn't have known anything about her step-son. He didn't understand the alarm in her demeanor. "Let me call Ziva or Gibbs…"

Then he heard the voices drifting down the hall. He couldn't comprehend what was said, but he did recognize Tony's raised voice. He glanced at the door and was relieved to see it had a lock on the handle. He turned the lock on the handle as he guided Elizabeth out the door. He gave a satisfied nod at the locked door and gestured for Elizabeth to lead the way.

There were not many steps to take before the voices became clear.

"Your mother couldn't stand the sight of you. Every time she looked at you she was reminded of what you had done," Marc shouted.

"What I had done?" Tony seethed, "I did _nothing_ to Ria. If you had been doing your job as a parent, she wouldn't have died!"

McGee glanced over to Elizabeth. She shrugged as they increased their pace. When McGee rounded the corner into the foyer, his response was automatic. He drew his gun.

"Back away, Mr. DiNozzo!" he ordered.

The older man was standing over the senior field agent, fists clenched. Tony was on his hands and knees. Slowly he stood rose to his feet, wiping a hand against his left cheek. McGee could see the blood that was running from a gash in the skin.

"Perfect, _Father_," Tony sneered, "If I didn't have a case to press charges before, I certainly do now. And I can assure you this time, you will see the inside of a jail cell."

The two men had begun to circle each other, oblivious to Elizabeth and McGee, unaware of the security guards that had surrounded them. They didn't hear the confused shouts around them.

McGee had drawn out his badge when he saw the first guard approach. "NCIS!" he called amidst the orders to drop his weapon.

He stepped closer to the confrontation, keeping his weapon trained on the elder DiNozzo. "Mr. DiNozzo, back away. Don't make me use force."

"Got your bodyguard here, I see," Marc derided, "Just proves that you're not capable of defending yourself. You're weak, you're worthless. You're a failure: you failed your sister, you failed your mother. Their deaths are on you!"

"Marc, stop this!" Elizabeth demanded.

Tony shook his head. He looked like he was struggling to keep from striking the man. McGee thought he might actually walk away. "Tony?" he ventured, trying to reach his partner.

Tony swallowed and a slow smile crept across his face. McGee didn't like the look of that smile. "Tony!" he called.

Tony stepped up to his father, his own fists clenched. "You never did get it, did you?" he said, his voice deceptively calm, "It was _you_ that ordered me to take Ria below-decks. It was _you_ that chose to sail that day. It was _you _that decided it was a good idea to let five-year old children on the deck of a sail-boat in questionable conditions. You were her father. You didn't protect her. You were too much of a coward to accept responsibility for your own errors in judgment. You couldn't accept that it was an _accident_. Someone had to be blamed, and why blame yourself when you had a child who couldn't defend himself?

"It was _you_ that let mother take the car that night. It was _you_ that didn't clean all the alcohol out of the house when she came back from rehab the last time. No, their deaths are on _you._ It's time you become a man and face that."

McGee was shocked at how fast it happened. Marc suddenly grabbed Tony by the throat, pushed the younger man against the wall. Something beyond rage burned in his eyes. Why didn't Tony defend himself?

Security guards rushed forward. Elizabeth screamed. McGee rushed forward. Hands were trying to pull Marc DiNozzo off the younger man. McGee looked at Tony again, and his expression turned to shock. The senior field agent wasn't struggling even though he was being choked to death. He was _smiling_ like the Cheshire cat.

Another pair of hands joined the effort. McGee saw the flash of gray hair out of the corner of his eyes. A pair of steely-blue eyes met his, the emotion completely unreadable. McGee wasn't certain how the boss had gotten to the fray, but he was grateful for the former Marine's presence. A few seconds later Marc's grasp was broken and he was wrenched away from Tony. The elder DiNozzo spun, his eyes wild with fury. His wrathful outburst was aborted before it began by the fist of a very angry Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs.


	10. Chapter 10

**A/N:** Thanks again to those who have reviewed!

_Chapter 10_

Gibbs didn't want to think about how satisfying that punch felt, he just wanted to get that sorry excuse for a human being as far away from his agent as he could. He had spotted the angry conversation at the back of the foyer when he re-entered the hospital. He knew the second he made eye-contact with Tony and saw that grin that things were going to go south. He just hadn't expected it quite that fast, he certainly hadn't expected the man to try and kill his son in public. He hauled the stunned man to his feet by the lapels of his expensive sport coat. The elder DiNozzo started to struggle.

"Go ahead, give me the excuse," Gibbs growled menacingly.

It might have been the glare. It might have been the posture that said _I could kill you a hundred ways with my bare hands_. Gibbs didn't know and did not care what caused Marc to cease his struggles. All he cared about was it gave him the opportunity to get rid of the man and finally check on his agent.

"Get him out of my sight," Gibbs barked to McGee. Without hesitation McGee chicken-winged Marc, accepted a pair of cuffs offered to him by a security guard and walked him towards the front entrance while giving the Miranda speech. A moment later, Gibbs pushed past the couple guards that were guiding Tony to the floor.

Gibbs dropped to a knee next to the senior field agent. The younger man was drawing in deep gulps of air, blood running down his cheek seeping into the collar of his shirt. Tony rolled his head to the side to make eye contact with his boss.

"Sorry, Boss," he croaked, wincing as the effort strained bruised vocal cords.

Gibbs lifted an eyebrow.

"Right, apologies, got it," Tony whispered his eyes searching the foyer.

"He's gone," Gibbs said quietly, "Won't be around here again anytime soon."

The relief that flashed through Tony's eyes made Gibbs wish he had hit Marc just a little harder. Tony loosened the tie around his neck, still trying to catch his breath. He stared at the hand when it came away bloody, wrinkling his nose like he had just discovered a fly in his Lo Mein.

"Hey Boss, I think I might need stitches," he rasped as he leaned his head back.

Gibbs stared at him a couple seconds before nodding, "Yup." He rose to his feet and offered a hand out to DiNozzo. "Can you walk?"

Tony gave a short nod of assent and took the proffered hand. That the younger agent didn't make a show of what would usually be perceived as an insulting question worried Gibbs. When the former marine took Tony's hand and helped him to his feet, he understood. The man was shaking like a leaf, though he was hiding it well. He met Tony's eyes and saw one thing: _get me the hell out of here._

Gibbs placed a steadying hand above DiNozzo's elbow as he waved off the nurse approaching with a wheelchair. When they rounded the corner into the hall leading to Emergency, Tony dropped his posturing. His shoulders slumped and he was visibly shaking.

"Wanna tell me what happened in there?" Gibbs asked, a hint of anger lacing his tone.

Tony looked at him eyes expressing hurt but not surprise at the tone. "No," he whispered, "Not now."

"Can you at least tell me one thing?"

Tony shrugged.

"Why didn't you defend yourself? You're a trained federal agent. You could have easily taken him down!" Gibbs demanded, his tone harsher than he had intended.

Tony stopped walking. He closed his eyes. Swallowing painfully, he tried to speak. Frustrated he turned and looked at Gibbs. He was angry. He knew everyone in that foyer had been thinking the same thing. Hell, his dad was probably laughing at what a pathetic federal agent his son was even as he was being shoved into the back of a squad car.

He tried to speak again, his voice sounding alien in his ears, "I didn't…" he broke off to cough, "I didn't fight back…_cough_…because I… _cough, cough…_was…_cough_…afraid…." Tony clenched his fists at his inability to finish the sentence. Gibbs was looking at him with concern. The irritation in his throat wouldn't quit, and suddenly he couldn't stop coughing.

The wheelchair-bearing nurse seemed to materialize out of thin air. Tony found himself seated, being rushed along the corridor. Black spots danced in front of his eyes as the coughing jag continued. He felt like he was suffocating, the sensation eerily reminiscent of the plague days. He was angry at Gibbs for making him talk, he was angry at his body for betraying him. And he was angry that Gibbs now thought he didn't fight back because he had been too afraid. The buzzing in his ears increased to a dull roar and the world went oddly gray.

~*~*~*~

Gibbs pulled the curtain aside that shielded DiNozzo from the rest of the ER floor. At the sound of the curtain track rasping, Tony turned his head. He was reclined back on the narrow bed, one hand keeping the edge of the breathing mask off the bandage covering his new stitches. He started to pull the mask off but aborted the move at Gibbs warning eyebrow.

"Doctor Singh said he'd be back in here shortly," Gibbs informed Tony, "He'll let you know if you can take that thing off."

Tony simply nodded before he turned his head away from his boss, fixating on the seventh pleat in the curtain again. He was embarrassed. Not only had he not stood up to his father, he had let Gibbs down by not doing so. He had further evidenced his weakness by nearly passing out from hyperventilating. He could feel Gibbs staring at him, felt his ears burning under the former marine's scrutiny.

"I talked to Elizabeth," Gibbs stated in a neutral tone. Tony turned his head back towards the team leader, surprised. "She told me what happened; matter-of-fact she blames herself for the whole thing. I know you didn't go looking for the confrontation, I never believed you did."

Tony tried to absorb the reassurance Gibbs was offering, trying to reconcile the understanding tone with the anger he had heard earlier. After several seconds he gave up, he just didn't have the emotional wherewithal at the moment to try and figure it out. He was saved from further rumination by the curtain being swept aside by the doctor.

The young doctor pushed his wire-rimmed glasses up his nose while he inspected Tony's chart. He conducted a brief vitals assessment before finally speaking in a colorful accent that seemed to be a combination of Hindi lilt and Scottish brogue, "I think we're safe to lose the mask now, Agent DiNozzo," he smiled as Tony fairly ripped the mask off his face. "Your respiration is back to normal, I presume the irritation in your throat has abated some?"

He continued at Tony's affirmative nod, "The mask was to rebalance your carbon dioxide levels following the hyperventilation episode, not an uncommon side-effect of strangulation. The air was also humidified to relieve some of the irritation in your airway. Should the irritation return, a hot shower or breathing over a basin of steaming water will help."

Tony nodded impatiently, looking to Gibbs for an assist. Gibbs smirked, "He wants to know when he can get out of here."

The doctor smiled good-naturedly, "Very soon, I assure you. We have a few more items to cover and you will be free to go. As you've been told already, avoid using your voice for at least a day and that includes whispering. Tomorrow you can start using your voice again, but be judicious: if it hurts, stop. Irritating the injury further could result in permanent voice damage. If you still are having problems speaking after a week, schedule an appointment with an ear, nose and throat specialist."

Tony tuned out the rest of the instructions about the care of his stitches. He'd had enough of them over the course of his life to know what to do. The intern that had stitched him up had done a very good job, insisting that the scar would be "hardly noticeable". He sighed, just one more mark his father had left on him. Absently he rubbed the inch long scar under his chin, made twenty-three years ago by the same ring that damaged his cheek today.

"Any questions, Agent DiNozzo?"

He shook his head.

"Then you're free to go. Come see us immediately if you start having any trouble with your breathing," the doctor cautioned.

Tony couldn't get out of the bed fast enough. He moved to pull on his button-down shirt and was stopped when Gibbs held up a clean t-shirt. "Your laundry won't be back until this afternoon. This was the only clean shirt you had left in your bag."

Gibbs had been busy the short time he had been away from the ER. Tony pulled the shirt over his head and used one of the few signs he had picked up from Abby: _Thank-you_. They walked out of the Emergency area into the hospital proper. After two corridors, the younger agent stopped in his tracks. He opened his mouth to speak and was promptly shot down by a light swat to the back of his head. His jaw jutted out in irritation. He turned and stared at his boss. He _needed_ to explain to Gibbs what he was going to say.

"This can't wait for the conference room?"

Tony shook his head.

Gibbs stared back. After a moment he handed over his notepad and a pen.

Tony took it and scrawled out a single sentence. He took a deep breath before handing the pad back over to Gibbs. His boss read the message, looked up and gave the agent an understanding nod before glancing at it one more time.

_I didn't fight back because I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop._

~*~*~*~

He had managed to keep up the act for an hour. Leaned back in the chair, feet kicked up on the seat next to him, head tipped back resting against interlaced fingers: he was the picture of _all was well_. Tony had listened to Gibbs explain that Abby and McGee would have access to Dawson and Knoll's machines by 1400. He had shown mild interest when Gibbs revealed that in addition to talking to Vance he had called Fornell. Electronic copies of Elliot Dawson's FBI/ATF file were being compiled. The remainder was being sent with an agent familiar with the case, due to arrive by 1600.

McGee had explained that all of Knoll's bills had been paid with money orders. The lieutenant didn't have a checking account. Every payday he would cash his check, deposit one-third into savings and have money orders printed in varying amounts. One amount was consistent, five-hundred dollars, every two weeks. McGee was still working with the money order company to find out who was cashing the money-orders.

But they wouldn't stop staring at him. Both had tried to ask if he was ok in their own way when he and Gibbs had first walked back into the conference room. He mouthed "I'm fine," and took his place in the chair. Whenever they thought he wasn't looking, they'd stare. Tony just wanted to forget about what had happened, deal with it after the case. But they kept staring. Ziva was asking Abby a question when McGee did it again. Tony met the younger agent's eyes and slammed his hand down on the table. Ziva turned and looked at him sharply; Gibbs gave him a warning look.

Tony's gaze was fiery. He grabbed a sheet of paper and angrily wrote on it. After a moment he lifted the sheet up to show McGee. _In case you hadn't noticed we have a missing submarine to find. _

"I'm well aware of that, Tony," McGee said testily.

A moment later: _Then quit looking at me like I am a kicked puppy and do your damn job._

Ziva interjected, "We are concerned about you. What happened this morning…"

_SLAM_. Tony wrote furiously. _What happened this morning is not important and is not relevant. I am fine. I can do my job. Let it go._

Tony stood and pointed at the projection screen. Both Ziva and McGee were looking at him like he had grown a third arm. Tony raised his eyebrows in challenge.

Abby dramatically cleared her throat on the phone and both agents turned around and focused their attention back on the projection screen.

"I was able to finally decrypt the last of the files on Lieutenant Michael Dawson's computers. The heavily encrypted files were recordings he was sending to recording studios."

Album cover art appeared on the screen as Abby continued, "DJ MD: Prescription for Trance was going to be his first professionally released album. The other encrypted document was a contract with a record label that was unsigned. Not surprising given their terms. I did some additional research into his work, he apparently had a fairly strong following back at Cal-Tech. Worked a lot of clubs with some pretty innovative music.

"McGee and I have scrubbed every bit of these machines, and there is nothing else on here. He was just super protective of his music. It's anti-climatic, really."

The conference room was quiet. They had all hoped that the laptops would yield some clue. Tony picked up a pen and wrote another note on some paper. _Email?_

"Tony's asking about the email, Abs," Gibbs conveyed.

"I've fed the emails through my new analytics server, searching for anything to do with weapons, submarines, the codename Fade. I've looked for anything from Dawson's uncle. It's mostly just spam. There's some correspondence from the record labels, some from his ex-wife. A lot from her family after their daughter died. If he was setting something up via email, it wasn't using this email account or these computers."

Silence settled in the conference room again. Gibbs stared at the cover art thoughtfully. His eyes narrowed and he tipped his head to the side. "Dawson!" he exclaimed after a moment.

DiNozzo furrowed his brow. Gibbs continued, "DJ MD… I bet Lt Hastings was talking about Lt Dawson yesterday. He said something about Deege Dock – I thought he was referring to a place. DJ MD, DJ Doc…" Gibbs trailed off.

"Good catch, Gibbs!" Abby cheered.

"It really doesn't get us anything, Abs," he commented drily, "he said four things, 'traitor', 'Deege Doc', 'fade' and 'abandon'. Even if we substitute Dawson for Deege Doc, it still leaves a lot to speculation.

"If we go on the assumption that Hastings was saying that Dawson was the traitor, it still leaves us with the question of whether or not Knoll is involved and we're no closer to an answer than we were ten minutes ago!" Gibbs tossed his pencil violently down onto the table in frustration.

Tony surreptitiously tore off a corner from a sheet on his notepad and wadded it up. He pitched it at McGee's head and grinned when it bounced off the Probie's ear. McGee did not look nearly as amused.

"In case you hadn't noticed, Tony we have a missing submarine to find," Tim sarcastically turned Tony's previous words back on him.

Tony simply shrugged and lifted his next sign. _Anything on the money orders?_

Tim rolled his eyes but checked the progress on his computer. "No. Nothing yet."

"Push them harder," Gibbs responded, giving Tony a hard look. Tony pointed to his stomach. Gibbs nodded. His gut was telling him the same thing. There was an answer in those money orders. The team leader looked at his watch.

"Ziva, get back upstairs and sit with Hastings. Access to Dawson and Knoll's Navy computers will be ready in a half-hour, McGee stay here and work with Abby. Tony and I are going back to the hotel to wait for Agent Torgeson and go through the electronic files Fornell sent to us. Meet back at the hotel at 1800."

Gibbs rose to his feet and stalked through the door, Tony just inches behind him. Gibbs had marveled at Tony's willingness to obey doctor's orders and keep his mouth shut. Looking at the set of the younger man's jaw and the glint of anger in his eyes, he saw it for what it was: a shield. As long as he could get away without speaking, he could avoid answering questions. Gibbs knew there was going to be fallout. The older man cast DiNozzo a worried look as Tony's scowl deepened when they exited the hospital.

Gibbs took a stab at what was churning in Tony's mind when they reached the car. "Hey," Gibbs said over the roof of the car. When Tony met his eyes he spoke, "You did the right thing, not fighting back," his tone quietly assuring. He held DiNozzo's gaze for a moment longer, making sure the agent understood that he _knew_ it had taken far more strength to resist fighting back than exchanging blows with his father ever would. That kind of anger and resentment was powerful. Tony would have been fully in his rights to defend himself but had recognized his limits and upheld the integrity of the agency.

"His day is coming," Gibbs promised. Both men shared a ghost of a smile as they opened the doors to the car and left the hospital parking lot.


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N**: _Minor spoilers for Kill Ari 1&2. Thanks to all who have reviewed and shared your encouragement. Sincerest apologies for the significant delay, I promise the next chapter will not be nearly so long coming._

_Chapter 11_

Gibbs looked up from the file he was reading on Elliot when he heard Tony snort softly in his sleep. He regarded the sleeping agent, watching to see if the disturbance was just a momentary disruption or a precursor to a nightmare. A few moments later, Tony stilled again. Gibbs' gaze lingered, noticing the bruise that was darkening beyond the boundaries of the bandage on the younger man's cheek. It was hard to tell from this angle if a bruise was appearing yet on Tony's throat. Strangulation was tricky, sometimes it left a mark, a lot of times it didn't.

His senior field agent had been lucky. A few seconds longer, a slightly different placement of Marc's hands around his throat could have changed the outcome from relatively minor injuries to something much more sinister. Gibbs knew he didn't have to lecture DiNozzo on how lucky he had been. He knew that Tony's time in law enforcement provided all the education he needed to that point.

His cell phone rang shrilly. Gibbs snatched it off the table, trying to silence it before it woke Tony. Too late, Tony was already sitting up reaching for his own cell on the nightstand.

"Mine, DiNozzo, go back to sleep," Gibbs said as he walked towards the door, flipping the phone open. "Gibbs."

The team lead heard Tony rising behind him, despite the indirect order to the opposite. Gibbs shook his head on the way out the door. The phone call from the director wasn't entirely unexpected. The subject matter however was.

"_Marcello DiNozzo's attorney has just filed a formal complaint with the Secretary of the Navy against Agent DiNozzo by extension yourself."_ Director Vance stated by way of greeting.

"He did what?" Gibbs replied incredulously.

"_Based on your briefing following the incident this morning, Mr. DiNozzo is going to have a difficult time fighting the criminal charge against him. So his attorney is taking the next best step open to him: turning this into a civil matter. He's calling into question Agent DiNozzo's competence and your judgment."_

"This is ridiculous and you know it," Gibbs snapped back angrily, "He's wasting our time. We have a case to focus on."

"_I see it for what it is, Agent Gibbs. I just needed you to be aware of the game being played. I need you to keep Agent DiNozzo in line."_

"He is keeping himself in line."

"_That's not how Mr. DiNozzo's attorney is depicting it. I need to know every interaction you and Agent DiNozzo have had with Mr. DiNozzo."_

Gibbs sighed, "I updated _Mister_ DiNozzo on the status of the Lieutenant yesterday. Tony's only _interaction_ with him was this morning."

"_Were you openly hostile to Mr. DiNozzo?"_

"Nope," Vance's question irritated him. He assumed that the lawyer had made that accusation as well.

"_Can you tell me what prejudiced you against this man you've never met?"_

"No," Gibbs patience was wearing out. "Do you have something case related to ask me?"

"_Just answer the damn question, Gibbs. The sooner I can get this to legal, the faster it can be put to rest."_

"It's not my story to tell," Gibbs responded shortly. The two men sat silently on the phone for a full minute before Gibbs finally spoke again. "Today was not the first time Mr. DiNozzo has laid hands on Tony."

There was a heavy silence before Vance spoke again, "_Understood. What happened after the meeting?"_

"I left to get a second rental car. When I came back to the hospital, Mr. DiNozzo had gone."

"_Nothing happened on the elevator?"_

"What did the lawyer say happened on the elevator?"

"_That you were threatening in demeanor and would not let Mr. DiNozzo on the elevator."_

"I was never on the elevator with him. He met me at the elevator. I didn't hold the door for him. That was the last I saw of him until this morning when he tried to kill one of my agents," he growled.

"_I think you should consider sending Agent DiNozzo back to DC."_

"No, he's needed here."

"_I don't know that you can risk another encounter, Agent Gibbs."_

"Tony's father is out of the way for the time being."

"_Not for as long as you might think. He's posting bail. He's scheduled to be released in the next couple hours."_

"I'm not sending him home," his tone challenging Vance to tell him how to run his team.

"_Suit yourself, but just know that the decision may be taken out of your hands."_

"It won't come to that," Gibbs stated with confidence.

"_Tell McGee that I have a warrant secured for him if he needs one for the money-order company."_

Gibbs snapped his phone shut.

~*~*~*~

Ziva watched Lt. JG Mason Hastings sleep. She had lost track of how many hours she had engaged in the activity, soundlessly observing the comings and goings of the medical staff and his wife. The Marines had kept to their six hour rotation. She imagined it had to be starting to wear on the men.

Something about the Lieutenant caused her to sit up, pay closer attention. There it was again. His eyelids fluttered. It looked like the young man was starting to wake up. She stood, stepping over to the side of his bed. After a couple minutes of waiting, his eyes opened. They were clear, aware. He looked slowly around, taking stock of his surroundings. His gaze finally settled on Ziva. He took note of her attire, and immediately dismissed her as a nurse. Never-the-less, he asked, "Water?"

Ziva blinked. She was almost afraid to leave him, thinking he might fall back asleep on her. But she suspected he was suffering from a parched throat and would be of no assistance until that was remedied. "I am Officer Ziva David, with NCIS," she offered him her credentials. "I will bring you some water."

She saw a flash of relief course through his eyes as he nodded. It took her only a moment to flag down a nurse and have water brought. The nurse tended to her patient, raised the head of his bed and assisted him with the water.

Before she left, she instructed in a tone that brooked no argument, "You have ten minutes. The doctor will be in shortly."

Ziva nodded her acquiescence. She knew that the hospital had gone out of its way to accommodate them and she felt she'd have the information they so desperately needed in half that time.

"What day is it?" Hastings asked in a rough voice.

"It is Sunday the eighteenth of January," she replied.

Hastings closed his eyes as he sighed, "Four days…." He opened his eyes and looked at Ziva intently, "Did you find the Fade?"

Ziva paused a moment before remembering the codename for the sub, it had been so rarely used in their conversations. "No, we were hoping that you would be able assist us. Tell me what you remember."

"It was about 1430 on the twelfth Lt. Dawson indicated some anomalous acoustics were coming from the drive system. We were at about a 150 meters depth. I started running some diagnostics and after 15 minutes determined that there was a problem with the intake. It wasn't entirely unexpected, it was her trial run and there are always bugs in the systems of a new machine. I recommended that we surface to investigate further," he paused to take another sip of water.

"I needed to get outside the boat and look at the intake. I had prepped the raft and secured the tether. Capt. Richter and Lt. Stein were helping me gear up. I was about halfway in my suit when Lt. Dawson came down the corridor and snatched Lt. Stein's sidearm. Then he just shot the Captain. There was no warning, no explanation. Albert had turned when his gun was taken and Dawson shot him too. Dawson told me to climb.

"I didn't know what else to do, I wasn't in a position I could fight back. So I climbed out. He followed me up. I could hear him behind me. I thought I might be able to gain some advantage when I got outside. He anticipated that, told me to stand on the middle rung of the rail around the hatch with my hands behind my head. He got behind me. Put the gun to my head. He gave me a choice: jump or he'd shoot. I jumped. I figured that my chances were nominally better. While I was underwater he released the raft tether.

"I almost didn't make it into the raft. I almost regretted my decision; at least being shot in the head would have been a quick death. If I was alive though, I could do something. I started paddling towards the sub, when Dawson appeared again and tossed Lt. Stein into the water. Dawson fired a shot at me, shouting at me to stay back. When he went back into the sub I tried to reach Lt. Stein. The drive system had been re-engaged. The sub was pulling away, I thought it would be safe. It took so long for me to reach Albert," he frowned at the memory, his voice becoming thick. "He was supposed to be getting married next month."

Ziva allowed him a moment to collect himself. He looked like he was fighting back tears. "By the time I got to where Albert was floating, I knew he was gone. I tried hauling his body into the raft but I couldn't get the leverage. I was already starting to shiver from the dunk in the water. I just couldn't do it. The Fade was several hundred meters away by that point. I had no hope of catching up, and Dawson dumped out the Captain. Just tossed him out the hatch like he was so much garbage."

The lieutenant's heart monitor started to beep faster. "Damn it, he was our _friend_. We just had a barbeque at the Captain's the week before. He had _family_. I did my best. I tried lashing the two of them to the raft to bring them home. But I wasn't strong enough, I had to abandon them. I had to leave them behind. We're not supposed to leave them behind, ma'am." Hastings voice broke, "I had to get back to tell the admiral what happened."

Ziva reached out and placed a hand on the Lieutenant's arm. "They made it home," she assured him, "You brought them far enough. They washed up on shore just barely a mile from where you were found."

The lieutenant swallowed hard, unable to meet Ziva's gaze. They sat quietly for a moment before Ziva continued, "I have only a few more minutes before your doctor insists I leave. I have just a few questions for you until you are feeling stronger."

The officer looked at her sadly and nodded for her to continue.

"Where was Lt. Knoll during the time Dawson was engaged with you, Lt. Stein and the Captain?"

Clearing his throat, "I don't know for sure ma'am. It was his shift driving the boat. We had all been trained to do it."

"Was there any indication that Lt. Dawson or Lt. Knoll might be planning something?"

Lt. Hastings thought for a minute before answering slowly, "No, nothing that screamed 'I'm going to go ballistic and hijack a multi-million dollar experimental submarine'. Lt. Knoll has always kept to himself, he does what he needs to do, but he's not the most personable man on the planet. He was just his usual self. Dawson seemed more withdrawn I guess, but it's nearing the anniversary of his daughter's death. We just attributed his behavior to that.

"Neither of them raised any flags. We've worked together for four and a half years on this project. I thought we all knew each other pretty well. Honestly, ma'am there was just no warning."

Ziva nodded as she jotted down some notes. She was nearly out of time. She looked at the Lieutenant. He looked like he was about ready to drift off to sleep again. "Lieutenant, were you aware that Lt. Dawson had recently come inherited a significant amount of money?"

Hastings looked at her quizzically, "No, ma'am. Knowing the doc that's just the kind of thing he'd brag about too. He probably would have used every last penny to sue our health plan."

"One more question, did Lt. Dawson ever talk about his family, his extended family in particular?"

"Nothing specific that I can remember. Most of the talk about his family was about his wife and daughter. He adored them," he yawned mightily just as the doctor entered the room.

"I think that is a good indication this interview is over," the doctor said sternly.

Ziva stood, "I agree. Thank you, Lieutenant. We may have some follow-up questions for you. I am sorry for your loss."

She started to exit the room when a haunted voice followed, "Why did he let me go?"

Ziva paused a moment before she turned around. She met the lieutenant's eyes, "Truthfully, I don't believe he thought he was letting you go. I don't believe he expected you to survive."

~*~*~*~

Tony sipped gingerly at the hot tea that Gibbs had brought back with him. He listened with one ear to the ZNN reports while he perused the files that Agent Torgeson had brought along with her. In somber tones the brunette on the TV reported that seven kids ranging in age from twelve to fifteen had gone missing along with the priest that had taken them on retreat. Theories had been flying for the past quarter-hour, everything from their van going off the road in the nor'easter to the priest kidnapping the children for illicit purposes. DiNozzo scowled at the TV as they showed an image of St. Jerome's Haven in Boston. He normally didn't watch the cable news outlets because of their tendency to jump the gun on stories. This one appeared to be no different. The one thing they were good for was getting the pulse of the media and so far there had been nary a word about the missing sub or what had happened to its crew. For now, that was all he was concerned about.

He glanced over to where Torgeson was hunched over the table with Gibbs, pointing out various locations on a map that indicated properties Elliot Dawson had owned. Normally the FBI agent would have been a prime target for his usual flirtatious advances. The agent was tall, blond and shapely with strong Scandinavian features. Right now, all he saw was a means to an end to solve this case and get the hell off the Island.

He flipped through the next couple pages of art transactions. Tony didn't recognize the vast majority of artists or their works but he did understand the values next to them. He also recognized a few of the names the pieces were bought and sold from, names that had been of interest in previous cases involving drugs and terrorism. He read through page after page of transactions. He found himself wishing McGeek were there to feed this information through one of his programs. Tony knew there was a pattern here.

Gibbs' phone rang. Tony barely listened as his boss conversed with Ziva. He heard enough to know that the Lieutenant had finally awoken long enough to tell his tale. DiNozzo inwardly cheered. Maybe that meant they could go back to DC to finish working the case or at least to the Newport Field Office. His conversation with Gibbs about his father's latest deed kept running through the back of his mind. He knew why Gibbs told him, he'd have found out eventually. He knew it was probably too much to hope that his father would let it drop once the team closed the case and went home.

A title of a painting caught his eye: _Darkness of 47_ by Pyotr, no last name, sold for $6 million 12/14/2005. He flipped back several pages, scanning the titles. There it was, same painting, same price, only purchased by Elliot a year prior. He scanned backwards through the pages found the same painting nine months earlier still. It had been sold by Elliot for $6 million.

Tony grabbed a couple highlighters from his backpack. Back and forth through the report he marked specific transactions. An hour later he cracked his neck, confident he had found enough to start to outline the pattern. He glanced at the clock. 1755, nearly time for dinner and their reconvene with the rest of the team. His stomach growled. Gibbs and Torgeson looked over to him, hearing the noise over the low volume of the TV. Apparently, DiNozzo was hungry. He shrugged.

~*~*~*~

McGee closed the lid of the laptop, frowning that he still had no response from the money order company. Gibbs was not going to be happy. Ziva had been on the phone with several people since she had left the Lieutenant's room. Only one conversation had been in English.

Abby was busy converting Dawson's music files into a format her new analytics server could ingest. She had the idea that maybe he had hid his correspondence in the audio files. She was confident that if there was anything there, her new program could find it.

As McGee packed up the computer and gathered the papers scattered about the table he asked Ziva, "Do you think Ria was his sister?"

Ziva knitted her eyebrows. She wasn't sure how to answer the question. She knew the answer. She just didn't know how much she should reveal she knew. Although, at this point she wasn't really telling, she was merely confirming.

"She was," she said with quiet certainty.

"When did he tell you?" he asked in a tone that was both accusing and curious.

"He didn't," she said simply.

McGee stared at her dumbly for a moment. Then she saw understanding in his eyes. "Your dossiers," he responded softly.

Ziva grabbed the bag carrying the notebooks and papers and swept the room for anything they might have forgotten. As they walked out the door McGee continued, "He joked with Kate all the time about how he wished he had a sister. He's never done that since you came."

"He probably knew that I knew and didn't want me to bring up something that he had chosen not to share."

She had given Tony the opportunity to share with her. She had opened the door that rainy night in front of the hotel when she had told him about her own sister. Her motives had been different then. Now, she understood his reaction to her pushing yesterday. Her dossier had not been complete regarding the estrangement between father and son, matter of fact there had been no information about there being an estrangement. She found that very curious.

"Do you know what happened?" McGee ventured, curiosity piqued.

Ziva met his eyes over the roof of the car. "I do, but that is Tony's story to tell."


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N:**_ I owe everyone a big apology for the long, long delay in posting. Big thanks to Kylen for her encouragement and willingness to let me bounce ideas off her. Thanks also to husband-beta for his help in tweaking the character voices. Any remaining mistakes are my own._

_Chapter 12_

McGee picked at the noodles on his plate. It was too quiet at the table, McGee decided. They were all focused inward, mulling the case and trying to ignore the proverbial elephant in the room. He risked a glance to his left to look at the senior field agent. To his relief Tony's attention was squarely focused on the meal in front of him. His mind kept rolling over the angry words hurled between father and son this morning and his quiet conversation with Ziva barely an hour ago. His thoughts drifted to his own sister, and he couldn't imagine his life without her. '_Tony's story to tell', _Ziva had said. McGee wondered if Tony would ever share the story with him.

Tony paused lifting a forkful of lasagna to his mouth and briefly met McGee's gaze. The corner of Tony's mouth lifted in a familiar expression that left McGee dreading what was going through his fellow agent's mind. Tony dropped his fork, scribbled a quick note and passed it over to McGee.

_You keep staring at me like that and Agent Torgeson is going to think you're into me and not her._ Tony further emphasized his point by nodding in the blond FBI agent's direction and lifting his eyebrows suggestively. She had been watching them. McGee felt his ears burn. He crumpled up the note and dropped it on the table and cast a dirty look at Tony. The senior field agent merely smirked. And in that instant, all sympathy McGee had been feeling was replaced by irritation. It infuriated him that even silent, Tony was able to get under his skin.

He picked at his noodles for another minute before he decided he'd had enough. He pushed his plate away and tossed his napkin on the table. "I'm going back to the room, check on the money orders," he mumbled as he shoved his chair in.

Gibbs and Ziva looked up from their plates as the chair _thunked_ into the table. Gibbs glanced over to Tony when McGee cast the senior field agent one last exasperated look before striding out of the dining room. Gibbs fixed DiNozzo with a stare, DiNozzo shrugged innocently. Across the table, Agent Torgeson cleared her throat as she dropped her own napkin onto the table, "I have some cross-references to check up on, I'm going to head back with Agent McGee."

Tony leaned back and watched her retreating through the restaurant back into the hotel lobby. Just because he had been off his game lately didn't mean he couldn't admire the view, did it? He focused his attention back on the lasagna when she rounded the corner out of sight. He felt a little tension seep out of his shoulders now that McPity wasn't there to stare at him every couple minutes – and remind him of what a royally crappy week this had been.

He took another couple bites before the exercise started to hurt too much. He leaned back in the chair again and stared at one of the several plasma TVs located throughout the restaurant. Of course, the only one showing the game was the one he couldn't see clearly. He gave up on the TVs after seeing the same crawls he had seen earlier. He glanced at his plate, glanced at the TVs then looked across the table to Ziva and Gibbs. All avenues of distraction were blocked. He couldn't eat, he couldn't lose himself in the game and he couldn't talk. He pushed away from the table, scribbled down a note and dropped it in front of Gibbs before stalking out of the restaurant.

Gibbs held the note at arm's-length, cursing silently the dim light in the restaurant. _Out for a walk. Have my cell. Back shortly._ At least that's what he thought DiNozzo's scrawl said. He stuffed the note in his pocket.

"What was that about?" Ziva asked quietly.

Gibbs looked towards the lobby before replying cryptically, "He'll let us know when he gets back."

~*~*~*~

Agent Torgeson typed furiously on her laptop, her brow furrowed in concentration. McGee smiled behind his own laptop. He suspected she was narrowing in on whatever she was searching for; her nose seemed to get closer to the monitor by the minute. The constant stream of clicking paused as she examined the latest result. She tilted her head to the right. And then she fixed McGee with a stare that would have made Abby proud.

"Agent McGee," she stated, "I have something interesting to show you."

McGee sighed as he walked over to stand behind her chair, "I told you that you can call me Tim."

"I know. I just wouldn't want Agent DiNozzo to think I was being unprofessional with you," she said seriously.

The computer specialist looked sharply at the FBI agent. "What?" he asked incredulously, "What does Tony…" He broke off when he saw the smile crack on her face.

"Really, Tim, you need to lighten up," she nudged him gently in the ribs with her elbow. "Look," she pointed at her screen, "these three companies all followed the same pattern in the mid-90s, just when Elliot was making some big money investing in the dot-coms. Several of the companies he invested in went belly up, filed for bankruptcy, some went through recapitalization, some simply folded. Not surprising given the volatility of the industry. These three on the surface appeared to do the same thing, so we didn't look deeper during our initial investigation of Dawson. Looking deeper though, all three shared the exact same investors. _Exact same._ Things get a bit murky with the recapitalization financing and re-registering of the corporations, but I think these companies were intentionally allowed to fail.

"To what end?" McGee pondered outloud.

"To change the identity of the companies without raising flags. It's going to take some more time to get through all these filings, but I think we may be able to finally find where Elliot Dawson has been hiding all his extra-curricular activities."

McGee nodded in admiration, "Nice work, Agent Torgeson. Let me know if there's anything I can assist with."

The blond agent snorted, "You can start by calling me Karen."

~*~*~*~

Special Agent Gibbs dropped the file on the table and pulled off his glasses. He glanced at his watch. It had been two hours since he and Ziva had returned to the hotel room. He was starting to wonder where DiNozzo had gotten off to when he heard the keycard slide into the reader.

All heads turned as the senior field agent entered the room, cheeks ruddy from the cold. He looked apologetically over to Gibbs before hanging his parka in the closet.

Ziva looked back down at the file she was examining, "I was starting to wonder if you had been attacked by a cougar."

McGee snickered from behind his laptop. Agent Torgeson looked between the three NCIS agents and furrowed her brow sensing she was missing an inside joke. Tony made a face at Ziva, dismissing the jibe as he strode over to Gibbs. He leaned down and started to whisper in the team lead's ear. Before Gibbs could remind him of doctor's orders, Tony's words brought him to his feet and he followed the younger man out of the room.

"Wonder what that was about," McGee muttered before turning his attention back to his screen.

"What was what about, McGee?" Abby's voice piped in over the speaker.

"Um, Tony just came back. Left with Gibbs."

"Why didn't you stop them?"

"I was supposed to?"

"Yes!" Abby shot back impatiently, "The analytics just stopped processing on the audio files."

"How was I supposed to know?" McGee asked defensively.

"Haven't you learned anything? Gibbs always knows when I find something."

"That's Gibbs, not me, Abby," he tried to reason.

"No excuse! Get Gibbs and Tony back in here. It's important."

McGee's email notification dinged. A message flashed briefly with the sender and subject. "Wait, Abby I just got an email."

"So? You always get email. This is important and I don't want to have to go over it twice."

"Abby just wait for half a minute!" McGee snapped back. "This is from MatrixChek."

"Who?"

McGee rolled his eyes, "The money order company we've been waiting to hear from all day long?"

"Oh, well you should read that, Gibbs will want to know about that too. Maybe you should go get him now…," Abby's words came out in rush.

"Palmer?" McGee called out.

"Uh, yeah? How did you know I was here?" the assistant ME responded apprehensively.

"No more Caf-Pows for Abby for at least three hours."

"Timmy!"

McGee didn't respond. He opened the email. His expression grew thoughtful as he read the details. After a minute he stood up. "Abby, I'm going to go get Gibbs and Tony."

After the computer specialist left the room, Agent Torgeson looked over to Ziva and asked quietly, "Are they related?"

"I can still hear you, Agent FBI," Abby piped in icily.

Ziva gave the blond agent a knowing smirk but shook her head. Abby was protective of her family and was generally cool towards newcomers. The forensic scientist was particularly suspicious of FBI agents after the time Tony had been framed. Karen looked like she was about to reply and Ziva shook her head and held a finger to her lips. Karen shrugged and went back to reading through her own files.

~*~*~*~

Tony looked at Gibbs, the frustration evident on his face. He needed Gibbs to make this call. He couldn't do it. It wasn't for lack of trying, his voice just wasn't holding out. If his voice wasn't cracking, he wasn't able to make any sound at all. He had used up what little voice he had tracking down the phone number. He vowed to spend more time with Abby learning ASL, it was a lot faster than this game of writing notes.

And Gibbs was right, now was not the time to be worrying about his father and the complaint. But he couldn't get it out of his head. It wasn't for his own sake, if the complaint had just been filed against him he could have shrugged it off and moved forward. Or at least that's what he kept telling himself. It was because Gibbs' name was attached and about to be dragged through the mud he couldn't let it go. It was undeserved. So he needed his boss to make this phone call for him.

Gibbs took the phone number from him. "Do you have a plan yet?" he asked as he dialed.

Tony shook his head. '_Working on it,' _he scribbled.

The small "business center" was really a small room with a computer, printer/copier and phone. It had been designed for a single user so the room felt a little crowded, but it offered a small measure of privacy. The hum of the copier filled the room while Gibbs dialed the number.

"Judge Iverson? No this isn't a prank call…." Gibbs tossed Tony an accusatory look. DiNozzo didn't even try to look innocent.

"This is Special Agent Gibbs with NCIS, sorry to interrupt your evening your Honor. I'm calling on behalf of Anthony DiNozzo…" Gibbs nodded. "Yes, Marc DiNozzo's son…. No, no, Tony's not in trouble… Tony said he needs the file unsealed."

There was a long pause. Gibbs covered the mic on his phone. "He wants to know why."

_Tell him to call Southampton PD._

Gibbs listened to the man on the other end of the phone let out a stream of curses after he relayed the message. "I understand… Tony is one of my agents. He tried calling you earlier… Yeah… They'll have the details for you… Appreciate it. Uh-huh… You can reach us at this number…" Gibbs rattled off his cell number and disconnected the call.

"The judge is a colorful man," Gibbs remarked drily. "Now what's so damned important about getting this file now?"

_It'll take too long to write. Short version – insurance._

Gibbs looked at his agent suspiciously. He knew about Tony's emancipation papers. He wondered if that was the sealed file that Tony was asking for. It would be unusual for such documentation to be sealed but as the team lead thought it through, he determined there was likely very little that had been standard about that whole process. He was frustrated that Tony couldn't talk to him. He was curious about what Tony meant by "insurance". He didn't think the younger man would deliberately blind-side him but he wasn't sure what was going through DiNozzo's brain at the moment.

The two agents stared at each other for a moment. For a brief moment, Gibbs saw the exhaustion in Tony's eyes, the tension in his shoulders. His senior field agent signed," thank you", his sincerity projected in his eyes. And then as quickly as it had disappeared, the mask was back in place. The two men turned around at the sound of approaching footsteps.

McGee looked between his boss and Tony and hoped to hell he wasn't interrupting something. "Uh, Boss, Abby found something and MatrixCheck just got back to me."

"And?" Gibbs prompted.

McGee looked uncomfortable for a moment, "Abby wouldn't tell me because she didn't want to repeat it."

"Let's not keep her waiting then," Gibbs strode purposefully past his agents and down the hall.

*~*~*~*

"Is that Grim Alabaster I hear in the background?" Agent Torgeson asked as she looked up from her files.

"What?" Abby replied.

"I asked if that was Grim Alabaster I'm hearing…"

"No, I heard what you said I just can't believe you said it. No one I know knows who Grim Alabaster is, well, except for Dim and Reese but they don't count because they're not from work. Although you're not from work... well I guess technically you're from work… How do you know Grim Alabaster anyway?"

Karen smiled, "I saw them live two weekends ago in Baltimore."

"NO WAY!" Abby exclaimed over the speaker, "I was supposed to go that night but…"

"But what, Abs?" Gibbs broke in.

"Bossman! But Sister Rosita needed me to bowl that night even though it was my night off because Sister Angie broke her thumb…"

"Abby? What did you find?"

"Are Timmy and Tony in the room?" Abby waited a couple seconds for a response. When none came she continued, "Agent FBI is a Raver."

"Abby!" Gibbs warned.

"So my new analytics server – I really have to give it a name, 'analytics server' is so boring – finished processing all of Lt. Dawson's audio files. Most of them were just what they appeared to be. However, several of the files contain snippets of conversation embedded in the music. It's going to take some time to piece all of them together, but it appears the Lieutenant and his cohort have been planning their heist by filesharing MP3s. The snippets are really short – and we probably never would have found them if Dawson the Younger used lyrics in his own music."

"How do you know they were filesharing, Abby?" McGee asked curiously.

"You mean aside from the three file-sharing programs he has on his computer and the log buried with all the uploads and downloads for the past month? And by the way, there was a lot of activity. I'm actually starting to wonder if we're missing a drive…." Abby trailed off.

There was a long pause while everyone waited for Abby to continue. Furious typing was heard in the background. "Abby?" McGee prompted.

"Wait," Abby responded. After a couple more minutes of silence, "Guys, I really think we are missing a drive. I'm not seeing any evidence of these files having ever been on any of the drives we have here. I'm betting that's where we'll find the good stuff."

"What do you mean, 'good stuff', Abs?" Gibbs interjected.

"The files containing the conversation on this computer – they're all from just shy of three years ago. There's nothing more recent though than thirty months ago. We're missing anything recent."

"We searched the Lieutenant's apartment thoroughly," Ziva stated.

"He could be keeping it anywhere," McGee replied, "Those drives could be small enough to fit in a safety deposit box, tucked in any small niche… we should check inside his other electronics. I wouldn't be surprised if he made use of some voids in his mixing equipment."

"Ziva," Gibbs turned to the Mossad liaison, "call…"

"… the Rhode Island office and get a team to the Lieutenant's apartment to search electronic equipment or any other small space that could conceal a portable hard drive," she finished.

"Anything else, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

"No, not until I make some sense of these snippets which will probably be another hour."

"Good work. Palmer – get Abby another Caf-Pow," he ordered the assistant ME.

Faintly from the speaker drifted Palmer's voice, "How do they _do_ that?"

Gibbs turned to the computer specialist, "What have you got?"

"MatrixCheck finally got back about the money orders. They had such a hard time of it because there isn't a record kept of _who_ purchases the money order. It's a cash transaction, so there are no credit or debit cards to trace. We got lucky in that Lt Knoll was a creature of habit and always made his purchases from his bank. Pay day was last Friday and through the logs at the bank and the memory of a very helpful teller, we were able to isolate the batch of money orders Knoll bought. Using that serial number and isolating to the timeframe the Lieutenant conducted his transactions at the bank…"

"McGee," Gibbs warned.

"Right," McGee nodded, "Short version. They were able to track down sixty-three, $500 money orders that were cashed by St. Jerome's Haven out of Boston. St. Jerome's has been receiving and cashing these money orders over the course of the last three years. Lt. Knoll was transferred to the Newport base about a month before he started purchasing them from his bank."

"That's almost $32,000. I guess we know where his money is going," Ziva remarked.

"What's so important about St. Jerome's that the Lt. is forking over nearly a quarter of his income for?" Agent Torgeson mused aloud.

"We should look into it, make sure it's a legitimate institution," Gibbs replied.

McGee sighed as he leaned back in his chair, frustrated at what appeared to be a dead end. It looked like Lt Knoll was just a very charitable person, certainly giving far above and beyond a traditional tithe.

Tony had been watching the exchange thoughtfully, his mind turning over the new facts. Something nagged at him throughout McGee's explanation. All heads turned as he suddenly stood and turned on the TV. Remote in hand, he navigated through the hotel's front screen channel. He looked over to the other agents in the room, eyes settling on his boss. As ZNN popped up Tony drew his attention back to the screen. The anchors were busily chatting about the recent wildfires threatening some pricey Santa Monica homes. Tony waited a moment then pointed at the crawl: _"Authorities still searching for missing retreat from St Jerome's Haven. No evidence found yet suggesting their van went off the road. Former residents of the Haven state that Father Andrew Donnelly would never hurt his charges. "_

Tony's attention again turned to his boss, his expression meaningful.

Gibbs looked at DiNozzo, then tossed his notepad down on the table as he barked, "Aw, _hell!_"

McGee immediately began typing into his computer. "I'm looking up contact information for St. Jerome's, looking for the link between Knoll and the Haven… " he muttered as his fingers flew.

"It could be just a coincidence," Agent Torgeson said hopefully.

"I don't believe in coincidences," Gibbs snapped back, "Ziva, contact the local authorities on the case. Agent Torgeson, check if there is FBI involvement yet."

Gibbs looked darkly at the ZNN crawl. He hoped it was a coincidence, that those kids really had just gotten waylaid in the storm. But his gut was telling him otherwise. Suddenly the room was filled with the voices of agents on their phones. He grabbed his coat and huffed as he stalked out the door, "I'm going for coffee."


End file.
